For the Good of Gondor
by Irena
Summary: AU, set after the War of the Ring. An update two years in the making....
1. Default Chapter

The hall was dark except for the reflected light from the great hearth. The fireplace held logs longer than a man and blazed with an intense heat that barely touched the chill that filled the room. Part of the chill was from the coldness of winter, but only the physical portion.  
  
Aragorn, King of Gondor slouched on his throne and stared absently into the flames and fiddled with something in his right hand. His privy counsel stood before him and waited, each one hesitant to fill the silence of the room with more than the deceptively merry popping of the burning wood.  
  
After what seemed to be an eternity the king brought his hand up and displayed what he held. Suspended from a silver chain wrapped around callused and scarred fingers hung the Evenstar. The firelight danced upon the silver and gems, giving it almost bloody sheen.  
  
"My Queen", said Aragorn in a low voice, "is gone. She departed Middle- Earth a fortnight ago from the Grey Havens. She has gone to join her family in the Undying Lands." His eyes never left the pendant as he spoke. "She wrote a letter explaining her reasons, the contents of which will remain known only to me. Suffice it to say she was not happy here and is not returning."  
  
He caught the pendant again in his hand, brought it slowly to his lips and then held it to his heart. Straightening his back, he raised his grey eyes first to his chancellor, Arnlaug.  
  
The old man bowed slightly to his king, and stroked his neatly trimmed beard for a moment. It was obvious that he had much to say.  
  
"Out with it, wise one", Aragorn sighed, "Although I can already guess what you will say."  
  
Arnlaug took a step forward and bowed again to his king. "Let me be the first to express my sorrow, my liege." There was a slight pause as Aragorn acknowledged this with a nod. "And as much as you do not wish to hear this, I am bound as your adviser to tell you. You must find another wife. And quickly. Your hold on the throne of Gondor is not as secure as you or I might wish."  
  
Aragorn studied his chancellor closely. The man was almost sixty years of age, but looked not a day over forty. The blood of Numenor still ran in his veins as it did in many of the noble houses of Gondor. Arnlaug's hair shone as a steely grey in the firelight, his stature was tall and noble and his body was still strong and muscled. The man was as valiant in battle as he was wise and honest in counsel, and that made him the most valued of all Aragorn's advisers.  
  
The king raised his eyebrows and looked at his chancellor inquisitively. "But I am Isildur's heir, descended directly from him. No one has a clearer claim to the throne than I." This discussion had been played out many times between the two of them, and they knew each other's arguments and moves intimately.  
  
"Yes. But you have no heir. And with no heir, your throne is not secure." Arnlaug bowed again, this time in apology for what he was about to say. "My Lord, while your lady wife was certainly beautiful to look upon, she refused to provide you with what was most needed. Your people have waited for the past three years, watching for some indication that she was going to produce an heir. The people of Gondor lived in stability for many years under the stewards. If you die without issue, the stability that the stewards and you have brought will be gone. The people of Gondor cannot allow that to happen." The chancellor then shook his head sadly. "And now she is gone, My Lord. And while my heart breaks for you and your sorrow, my head tells me that we must act quickly before your throne is lost to some upstart rival with a house full of brats."  
  
Not responding immediately, Aragorn moved his gaze to the tall, thin, and colorless man at Arnlaug's left. "What say you, Lord Gilby? Do you also feel that I have been remiss in my duties to Gondor?"  
  
Gilby stiffened slightly at the question, but met Aragorn's eyes steadily. "I feel you have carried out your duties to Gondor with distinction and honor in all but this matter, my liege. But I agree that you must have heirs and you must have them soon." Gilby reached a pale hand inside his voluminous sleeve and pulled out a small roll of parchment. "I have taken the liberty of compiling a list of all the eligible maidens of noble birth and legal age in Gondor for your perusal." His bloodless lips compressed themselves into a mirthless smile as he bowed in apology. Lank blond hair flopped over his face and then back. "I fear that we suspected that the Queen would not return from her visit to Ithilien."  
  
Aragorn winced for a moment, but then schooled his face to neutrality and addressed his entire counsel. "I have also put much thought into this, My Lords. I have already decided as well that I must take another wife as quickly as possible. I have also determined that while the blood of Numenor runs in our veins, it also begins to thin. I therefore will take to wife another elf, one of impeccable bloodline and breeding. The addition of one of the fair race into my bloodline will not only strengthen my claim and the claim of my sons to this throne, it will also add to the stability and renown of our fair land."  
  
Eyebrows raised, Gilby bowed and nervously clasped his hands. "My Lord, I am glad that you appreciate the urgency of what must be done, but I feel that this may be impossible to do. I am told that the elves have been leaving Middle-Earth in such great numbers that there are few left at all, and only a handful of those of noble descent. Those that remain are all male. There are no elvish princesses left in Middle-Earth."  
  
The other members of the counsel nodded in agreement. Regin, portmaster of Gondor stepped forward and touched his forelock in reverence. He was of common stock, but his honesty and wisdom could be always counted upon. Aragorn appreciated such things. "It's true, Milord. The elves have left in droves since the war ended. I'm told that Mirkwood, Rivendell and Lothlorian are deserted, and even our elves from Ithilien are leaving. In fact," he leaned forward to give his words more impact, "I understand that in many places up north, the humans think that elves are legends and never existed." He shook his head sadly as he spoke.  
  
Arnlaug spoke up, "Lord Kelsig has a lovely daughter, and just the right age. And that family is well known for being prolific. With proper time for courtship, we could have an heir by harvest."  
  
With steely eyes, the King of Gondor shook his head. "No. I will not wed a human girl."  
  
The chancellor took a deep breath and tried again. "Of the elves that are left in Middle Earth, I can think of only three of noble birth. Two are your foster brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. And the other is Legolas, son of Thranduil. I sincerely doubt that any on them can fulfill your needs."  
  
It was then that Davyn stepped forward. The mage had only recently been admitted to Aragorn's counsel but had proved to be resourceful and wise. With a nod of his head to the chancellor, he spoke. "The question is not whether they can fulfill your needs, my liege. With the application of enough power, any creature can fulfill any need." His sleeves fell back from tattooed arms. The snakes there seemed to writhe in the firelight with a life of their own. "The question is if you're willing to expend the power and make the sacrifices necessary to get your desired results."  
  
Aragorn looked quietly at the mage for a long moment, and then down at the pendant in his hand. Lifting his eyes again to the tattooed man, he spoke but one word. "Explain."  
  
*******************************  
  
  
  
:: This wind could cut through even the stoutest walls,:: thought Legolas as he rode through the gates of Minas Tirith. ::It is a good thing that I do not feel the cold as a Man would. I would be frozen to my mount otherwise.::  
  
He wrapped his cloak more tightly about himself out of habit more than need, and then patted the letter that rested against his chest. :: Arwen came to visit me in Ithilien, and then she left Middle-Earth. Naturally, there would be questions. Aragorn would want to know what happened. :: A sigh escaped his lips as he urged his mount to the higher levels of the city. The summons to attend his old friend had not been completely unexpected.  
  
The cold had kept most of the populace indoors, and his horse's hooves echoed and rang through the streets. The cold seemed to intensify the sounds. He could see a few people in windows peeking out at him as he rode by, their faces filled with honest curiosity and wonder. Elves were a rare and wonderful thing to behold in this Age of Man. Their regard caused him to sit a little straighter and prouder. :: I may well be the last of my kind that they ever see. I should be sure that they remember my race for their nobility as well as their beauty. :: He could feel his long hair flowing behind him in the bitter wind. :: I must make quite a sight for them indeed, so completely different than Arwen and her gentle sadness. ::  
  
The wind snapped the pennants upon the highest turrets of Aragorn's city, making them sound like small explosions. Legolas patted his mount gently when a particularly loud pop caused the horse to spook a little. "Arod, soon you will be in a nice warm stable, your belly full of warm mash. I will be the one in the fire. Perhaps we should trade places for the night, you and I." The horse said nothing, but swiveled his ears with a complete lack of sympathy that made the elf smile.  
  
The men at the gates to the palace recognized the elf and bowed stiffly in their layers of heavy clothing. Legolas nodded to them as he rode past and into the courtyard. The wind blew even more fiercely in what should have been a protected area. In deference to the mortals waiting to greet him in the inadequate shelter of the hall doorway, Legolas quickly jumped down from Arod's back and turned him over to the waiting grooms.  
  
The horse walked away with a swish of his tail and snort of seeming equine laughter. Legolas quirked his eyebrow, and shook his head slightly before taking a deep breath and turning to face his friend.  
  
With a few fluid steps, the elf was at the top of the steps. Aragorn's grey eyes bored into his blue as they clasped forearms in greeting. "Welcome back to Minas Tirith, Son of Thranduil."  
  
"I bring you greetings from Ithilien and also from the Glittering Caves, Your Majesty." Legolas responded with equal formality.  
  
Aragorn nodded curtly and then gestured to the door. It was much too cold for mortals, even mortals such as he.  
  
Together they walked into the great hall of Minas Tirith. It was not much warmer inside the hall, but at least they were out of the wind. It still howled forlornly across the windows, almost as if it were angered that it could not be in the hall as well.  
  
Legolas looked across the hall, noting the banners and tapestries that covered every wall. Arwen had done that to beautify the otherwise bare hall. She had tried so hard to bring a piece of her elvish home to this cold castle, but the bare stone still lay beneath the trappings of culture. Her absence was palpable.  
  
His attention returned to Aragorn. The king was watching him with an intensity that was almost disturbing. :: He wants to know of Arwen, :: thought the elf. He then glanced at the others with the King. Most of them he knew as members of the Privy Council. The two he did not know were a richly dressed older woman, and a younger man robed in dark blue. He looked expectantly towards his friend for introductions.  
  
"You have yet to meet the newest member of my Council, Legolas. This is Mage Davyn. He has been with us since this past summer."  
  
Legolas turned to the mage. He appeared young, but with mages appearances could be deceiving. Curly brown hair covered a high forehead, and brown eyes gleamed with a sharp intelligence. With a deliberate movement the mage extended his hand and the elf took it without hesitation.  
  
The grip was strong, and unrelenting. Blue sleeves fell back and showed tattoos in mystic symbols and animals that crawled up the mage's arm. His eyes met the elf's blue with a measuring gaze, searching for something. There was a split second of disorientation but it felt like an eternity. Legolas blinked for a moment as he withdrew his hand.  
  
Shaking his head slightly, he then turned to the woman that Aragorn was introducing. "And this is Countess Valda, Head Lady of the Queen's Chamber." The woman had been beautiful in her youth. Her eyes shone with intelligence, and her smile was stunning.  
  
The elf took the proffered hand and kissed it. "It is always a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a lovely creature, My Lady."  
  
The woman smiled and raised an eyebrow as she curtseyed. "My Lord, I must say the same of you."  
  
Aragorn dismissed his Counsel with a glance and they obediently dispersed. He then took the elf's elbow and guided him to a small table set by the fire. "The hour is late, and the household has already eaten. I have taken the liberty of having a private meal laid for the two of us so that we may talk."  
  
They sat and Aragorn gestured. A servant brought over wine. Legolas drank deeply, for he had been riding hard to reach Minas Tirith before nightfall. "Is this a new vintage? It's very sweet."  
  
The king nodded dismissively. "It's something that Davyn's been experimenting with." He then leaned forward. "You know of which I wish to speak."  
  
Legolas sighed and looked towards the fire. "I know." He looked back at his friend. Aragorn's face was painted red by the firelight, and his grey eyes could pierce to the soul.  
  
"What did she say to you, Legolas? I have a letter she wrote, but I know that it does not say the whole truth. Why did she leave?"  
  
The elf shifted in his chair and took another drink of the wine to buy a moment. He wrinkled his nose at the near overwhelming sweetness but then turned his attention back to the man who gazed at him with an unidentifiable look in his eye.  
  
"Why, Legolas? Tell me why she went to visit you and then left forever."  
  
"Aragorn, Arwen did not come to Ithilien to visit me as much as she came to escape Gondor." There, it was said.  
  
The king simply waited for the elf to continue.  
  
"She had decided long before that she was leaving, Aragorn. She simply used the excuse to visit my realm as an opportunity to get away."  
  
Aragorn regarded the elf with half lidded eyes. "Continue."  
  
Legolas shook his head sadly. "Understand this. She loved you. She still loves you. She thought she loved you enough to renounce all that she was and all that she knew to be with you. But she found that she could not make herself what you wanted her to be."  
  
"I loved her with all my heart, Legolas. I gave her everything she asked for. I didn't pressure her or try to change her."  
  
"I know this, Aragorn, and so did she. But she was unable to change herself for you. She was the Evenstar, the fairest, and blessed with immortality. The romantic dream of giving up eternity to be with you lost appeal when she came to live with you in a cold castle with cold people who treated her as though her sole purpose was to be your broodmare."  
  
"It is the duty of a Queen to bear sons, as it is my duty to father them. I've had that lesson preached to me entirely too many times." Aragorn turned his gaze back to the fire.  
  
"I know this, and you know this. It is the way of Men. Elves are different, and I don't think she realized how different our people could be. I don't think she understood what she agreed to, and when she realized, it was too late." Legolas paused and drank again. "I'm sorry. That's all I can say."  
  
Aragorn nodded as he watched the fire. "I know." He shifted his attention back to his guest. "I will be taking a new wife immediately. I have no choice in the matter. I must have heirs to consolidate my claim to the throne."  
  
The elf nodded. "I understand. As I said, it is the way of Men. You have so little time on this world that you must achieve your goals through your children."  
  
"Do you think I am a cruel man, Legolas? Do you think that I drove her away? Would I do the same to the next maiden I will take to wife?"  
  
Legolas furrowed his brow and then leaned forward. "No. Do not think such things. You are a kind man, and a gentle man. Any maiden would be honored and proud to have a man such as you for a husband. She will be blessed for all her days because of you."  
  
A strange look passed over the King's face as he regarded the elf across the table from him. "Thank you, Legolas. I will remember those words. I will keep them close." He then gestured to the shape that had been lingering in the shadows behind the table. "Yes, Davyn?"  
  
"My Leige." The mage glided up soundlessly, bearing a jeweled collar upon a cushion. "It is done. I have brought it for your approval."  
  
"Ah…" Aragorn picked up the collar and inspected it closely. It was an inch wide, made of the finest gold. It was not solid but made of a single piece of gold that had been woven and tied in a fierce knotwork that had no beginning or end. The back had been left open but was made to fit together seamlessly on both ends. Suspended from the front of the collar was a large blue gem the size of a robin's egg. "Do you see, Legolas? Davyn is also a smith, and has made this gift for my future wife." Aragorn passed it to the elf.  
  
Legolas looked closely at the collar. "It is lovely, but…" His eyes became unfocused as he ran his finger over the gold, tracing the design. His voice sounded remote. "Each knot is a spell, a binding. Very powerful spells and bindings. What would you do with such a thing? Who would you bind and to what?" He looked up at the mage with large eyes and quickly returned the collar as though it burned him.  
  
Aragorn laughed quietly. "Have you now turned Mage on me, my friend? I thought you were a simple archer and warrior and sometime Prince?"  
  
"No, My King" answered the mage before the elf could answer. "Elves are by their very nature magical creatures. That is what makes them so resistant to all but the most powerful magics. He merely feels the energies that I have put into your gift."  
  
Legolas suddenly felt very tired, fatigue coursing through him, and to his bones. His head drooped despite his best efforts, and the room began to slowly blur and spin. He watched distantly as Aragorn stood up and walked around the table to stand next to him. "Drink your wine, Legolas." said the King, his voice sounding as if he were standing leagues away instead of right next to him. The goblet was held to his lips and the sickly sweet concoction was poured past his unresisting lips and down his throat.  
  
"All is ready, My King." The mage's voice was even more distant, almost drowned out by the sound of his own heart that echoed in his ears.  
  
  
  
**********************  
  
  
  
"Will this hurt him?" It seemed a strange time for Aragorn to express concern, thought Davyn. The elf had been brought to the tower room and was even now kneeling with an easy grace in the center of the mystic circle. Blue eyes were alternating between blankness and stunned amazement as he tried to grasp what was happening around the effects of the drugged wine. His outer tunic had been removed, and his wrists were now captured in short chains that were attached to the floor next to his knees. He could go nowhere, even if he somehow found the strength to fight. Which was highly unlikely.  
  
"Answer me, Davyn." The King's voice was strained. He had not liked the thought of a betrayal of a friend.  
  
"Yes, My Lord. This will hurt him." The mage continued with his preparations as he spoke. Salt fell from his fingers as he outlined the circle and traced symbols on the floor. "The actual change itself is very easy. Every being chooses to be male or female in the womb. What I will do is simply take him back to that time of choice in his body and compel his body to the other choice. The hard part will be the binding. I will have to bind him to that body, and then bind the body to you, and away from the sea. Elves are notoriously hard to bind, and that will be very painful." He finished the last rune and wiped his hands on his robe. "I need your help now."  
  
Aragorn walked slowly over to the elf, careful to not touch any of the mystical symbols on the floor. "What would you have me do?"  
  
The mage walked over with the collar. "Hold his hair up and his head still when I put this on him. I would not harm him more than I have to."  
  
Lowering himself slowly to his knees, Aragorn peered into the blue eyes. They fixed on him in a moment of clarity, and then went blank again. With hands that were far gentler than they looked he carefully lifted the long hair and rested his hands firmly on either side of the blonde head.  
  
Legolas could feel the collar as it was passed around his neck. He whimpered as the gold touched his skin, burning into him with an icy heat. It clicked audibly when the ends met and melted seamlessly together, a perfect, near-choking fit. The gem rested squarely at the hollow of his throat. His eyes cleared for a moment and found Aragorn kneeling in front of him. "Why?" His voice was barely audible, but the King heard it.  
  
The man let the golden hair fall and then touched the pale cheek gently. "For the good of Gondor, Legolas. Everything I've done is for the good of Gondor." But the eyes had already lost their focus and the words fell upon deaf ears.  
  
"Give me your hand." Davyn's voice cut through Aragorn's thoughts. The king automatically obeyed and winced when his thumb was sliced with a dagger. Drops of royal blood were applied to the back of the gemstone and it was firmly pressed onto the fair skin.  
  
"Why did you do that?" hissed the king.  
  
The mage stood up, and gestured for his king to leave the circle. "Elven women choose when they conceive and with whom. That is why your previous wife never quickened with child. I have just removed that choice." Stepping over the salt again, he turned to the door. "It is time. Let them in."  
  
Aragorn walked to the door and opened it slowly, and allowed the members of his council and the Countess to enter. They silently filed in, and stood around the perimeter of the room, looking at the kneeling figure in the center of the room. The Countess frowned, and then shook her head sadly, but otherwise all were emotionless.  
  
"I ask for the final time, King Ellessar of Gondor. Is this the course of action that you choose? I cannot undo what is going to be done after this point." Davyn intoned the words solemnly, already knowing the answer.  
  
The King drew himself straight and tall and his voice boomed forth. "I do so choose this course of action, for the good of Gondor."  
  
"So be it." The words were said with a tone of sad finality, but the mage was nothing but obedient to his king.  
  
Davyn began to chant in some unknown language, his voice sonorous and deep. With each syllable the salt on the floor began to glow, at first softly and then more brightly until the room was filled with a blinding light.  
  
The chanting became louder and more strained, as if there were a struggle ensuing behind the curtain of bright light. A hot wind blew through the room, causing hair and clothing to whip cruelly, and the chanting continued. The wind began to howl, and the chanting turned into a scream, until there was sudden silence and darkness.  
  
With a tired wave of his hand, Davyn reignited the torches and candles that the wind had snuffed. He then walked the circle counterclockwise, and with deliberate swipes of his foot, smudged the symbols and then the circle. It was only when he had done this that he knelt before the blonde figure that was collapsed in the middle of the circle.  
  
"Majesty, My Lords, My Lady. If you please?" His voice was so soft with exhaustion that he could barely be heard.  
  
Aragorn stepped first to his side and looked at what lay before him and smiled. The silk shirt now concealed the swell of breasts, and there was a pronounced curve of the hip. He watched, still smiling, as his mage gently rolled the unconscious body to its back and lifted the chin to show all there that the collar was now part of the soft skin, as if it had been there upon birth. The blue gem flashed with an internal light as it rested in its most natural spot, permanently at the base of a pale, soft throat.  
  
The other councilors stepped forward and stared at the body. Arnlaug, as was his wont, spoke first. "Majesty. We must be sure before we give our approval to this."  
  
Aragorn frowned for a moment, and then nodded. "I understand."  
  
He reached down and his hands shook. He forced himself to be still for a moment and then continued. With now steady hands he ripped open the front of the silk shirt and exposed a pair of womanly breasts with nipples of the palest pink. His hands hovered over this and then moved down to the leggings and ripped open the front of those. There was a woman's cleft, complete with a small, slight coating of golden blonde hair.  
  
The king straightened up and smiled. "Countess, I give into your keeping my future bride." His face then went dark. "Davyn, how long can we keep Legolas drugged?"  
  
The mage's voice was drawn and tired. "I would advise as long as possible. She will be most unhappy with you when she awakes." 


	2. Chapter 2

This being part two of the story, I must say that most of you are absolutely right. I am sick. Fear me. But the plot thickens. Yes, there is a plot. I don't do plotless stuff. Honest.  
  
The NC-17 is a future rating to address the concept of nonconsensual relations.  
  
Disclaimer I forgot before: I don't own Middle Earth. I don't own Aragorn, or Legolas. Don't want too. They're probably entirely too high maintenance for me. I own my original idea and characters.  
  
  
  
  
  
::Trapped. I'm trapped. Where am I?:: Legolas was on a bare plain. Flashes of light filled a turbulent sapphire sky above his head, and stained the sands at his feet an unnatural blue.  
  
He turned slowly in a full circle looking for some landmark, but the plain was completely flat and empty. There was nothing as far as even elven eyes could see.  
  
He raised his eyes again to the sky. It was more of being deep underwater, he decided. The flashes of light seemed more to be as if they were sunlight coming through the facets of jewel.  
  
And then the pain started. Deep inside a sharp stabbing sensation started and grew. He could barely breathe. The pain came in waves, washing over him again and again. Falling to his knees, and then to his side, he gasped in agony. And then the pain centered itself onto his neck. A band of fire circled his neck and turned to ice and froze to his skin. He clawed at the band, and for a moment thought that he had pulled it away from his skin when the pain receded for a moment, but then realized that he had only momentarily delayed the inevitable. With a sudden flare of anguish the band tightened around his throat again, and this time would not move.  
  
The world went black.  
  
Sunlight turned the back of his eyelids red, and his eyes flew open in panic. Hands reached up to claw at the band that choked him. His nails slid harmlessly off of the metal and down into his skin, causing bleeding furrows on his pale throat. He could feel the blood dripping down the side of his neck. "No! I will NOT be bound!" he screamed, terror in his voice.  
  
His hands were grabbed and held tight, and his eyes focused on Valda. She leaned over him and crooned quietly as if to a small child, "Shh… Shhh… Quietly now, quietly now. Don't hurt yourself."  
  
He breathed in great gulps of air and tried to calm himself. It was hard to swallow. "What happened?" he gasped at last. His voice sounded strange to his ears.  
  
Valda's green eyes reflected such depths of emotions that he could feel her sadness rolling over him. She looked down to the bed and then back up into his eyes. "A very evil thing, fair one." She slowly released his hands, secure that he would not harm himself. "A very evil thing. Today is a sad day for Gondor, at least to my eyes." She shifted to sit on the bed next to him, and then turned her eyes to the floor.  
  
Legolas struggled to sit up in the bed, and looked around the room that he found himself in. A single window allowed in wan winter sunlight. The window was barred beyond its glass panes. A prison. The furnishings were finely wrought and rugs and tapestries adorned the floors and walls. A rich prison. The door was heavy oak with ornate hardware, but with the inside handle removed. A prison all the same.  
  
His eyes returned to the Countess, who was now closely watching him. She was waiting for something.  
  
"Why am I bound?" he asked quietly, pointing to his neck.  
  
She could not meet his eyes. "Do you not remember?"  
  
"No. I remember nothing."  
  
The Countess said nothing further, but extended her hands, offering to help him from the bed. He studied her face closely, but was unable to read anything but sorrow in her eyes. He slowly placed his hands in hers, and allowed himself to be led out of the bed, and across the room to a tall standing mirror. The carpets were soft on his bare feet but still broadcast the bitter cold of the stones.  
  
He watched the mirror as they walked up together. First Valda's slim frame, dressed in dark colors of mourning, of the finest fabrics and cut. Dark hair lightly frosted with grey was wrapped up onto the back of her neck.  
  
And then he saw himself. The fair skin and blonde hair he had expected, and he knew that he was wearing a linen shift for some reason. But the person who gazed back at him was not he. :: If I had had a sister, this would be what she would have looked like::, he thought to himself.  
  
His eyes still looked back at him, but they were set in a face that was not his. It was recognizable, but more refined and undoubtedly female. He watched as rose petal lips parted in a gasp of shock as the woman in the mirror reacted to something she had seen. Perhaps it was the sight of the golden collar that was now part of her skin, or the blue jewel that was centered at the base of her pale throat. His eyes traveled down her body to the swell of a breast visible at the scooped neckline of the shift, and the curve of a hip further along.  
  
His eyes traveled up again and met eyes with the woman who stared back at him. Her eyes were sad and large as she shook her head in denial. He moved his hand up to comfort her when he looked down at his own hand. The pale winter sun limned delicate fingers and a fragile wrist.  
  
He staggered away from the mirror, unwilling to look any longer. "No. This cannot be." Now he realized why his voice sounded so strange. It was higher, more melodious.  
  
He looked again to Valda, shaking his head in rejection of what he had just seen. "No."  
  
She wiped what appeared to be a tear from her cheek, and then walked to the wardrobe and began to pull out clothing. "It's time to get dressed. The King will want to see you soon."  
  
Legolas looked again to the woman in the mirror. Her eyes suddenly glittered and her face was pulled tight with a terrible anger. "Good. I have much to say to him." The voice was still melodious, but deadly in pitch.  
  
Valda winced imperceptibly and returned with a gown done in colors of moss green and blue. She leaned forward to place it against him, and said in a small voice, "Do not anger him overmuch. He is not the man that you were friends with. Things have changed in Gondor, and not for the better."  
  
"Indeed?" he responded, trying to push the dress away. He wanted his own clothing, not this.  
  
"Indeed." Valda pushed back. "Did Arwen not tell you anything before she left?" As she spoke her voice lowered to the smallest whisper.  
  
Legolas paused in thought and Valda took the opportunity to throw the gown over his head. He shook his head in irritation as she firmly tugged the gown down around his shoulders and pulled the sleeves onto his arms. "She said that she was unhappy. That she was surrounded by cold people in a cold place." He paused for a moment. "She said that even Aragorn had grown cold to her, that she thought another had captured his affections, and that when she looked at him, she saw a stranger looking back at her from behind his eyes." He grunted the last when Valda yanked hard on the laces on the back of the gown.  
  
The gown was tied and adjusted, Valda's movements almost birdlike as she pulled gently on the linen shift, blousing it up to show just the smallest white edge around the border of the neckline and cuffs. Legolas continued, his initial irritation at the clothing forgotten as he recalled a hurried conversation in Ithilien. "I dismissed what she was saying, thinking her irrational with disappointment. She was raised different manner than I, and had what I considered too high expectations for her life here. I told her that the weight of a crown could weigh down even the most steadfast of men, but that I knew that Aragorn loved her beyond all things in this world."  
  
"And he did", said Valda softly. The woman gently guided Legolas to the window, and pushed him to sit down on the cushioned seat there. She produced a brush from some hidden place and began to slowly brush the long golden hair, undoing tangled braids and calming snarls. "She was his stars and moon, but something happened." The rhythm of the brush against his hair soothed him; he closed his eyes and listened closely. Valda sighed and repeated herself. "But something happened. He changed. It was subtle at first, a flash of temper here, a touch of cruelty there. But things got worse. And now those of us who had been close to him feel as though the King we love has died, and been replaced with a stranger."  
  
"What happened to cause this?" Legolas asked softly.  
  
The woman swallowed hard. Her answer was barely audible, even to his sharp ears. "The mage came."  
  
The sound of footsteps outside the door, and the turning of the tumblers in the lock interrupted his next thought. The door swung open slowly and the King of Gondor walked in, attended by his mage.  
  
Aragorn was dressed in a grey silk tunic with a crimson velvet overtunic. His leggings were of charcoal, and he wore soft black house boots. A glint of beaten gold peeked out from around his neck. He stepped slowly across the room until he stood in front of the two on the window seat.  
  
Davyn stood slightly behind but at the king's elbow. Legolas looked at the mage for a long moment, and noted the eyes were hollowed and cheeks sunken. Fatigue played upon his features.  
  
The king studied his friend for a long moment and then spoke quietly, "If you had been born to this form Arwen would never have been known as the Evenstar. Your beauty would have eclipsed hers. While she was the stars and the moon in the autumn sky, you are the sun and the sky in summer."  
  
Legolas stared into the grey eyes of the king. "But I was not born to this form. Nor do I desire to be in this form. You have betrayed me, betrayed my trust and faith in you. Why have you done this?" He restrained the fury he felt but his voice still shook.  
  
For a moment the king's eyes were saddened and shamed. Only for a moment. And then the mage brushed the silk clad elbow lightly, and the eyes narrowed, and a stranger looked upon the elf. Legolas knew his eyes widened at the sight.  
  
"Why have I done this?" Aragorn smiled arrogantly. "For the good of Gondor, of course. I have had made a consort worthy of me." He nodded at Legolas' expression of shock. "You will be treated with all honor and decorum, and we will be wed in a sevenday."  
  
"This is how you treat me with honor and decorum?" White hot rage filled Legolas' veins and bubbled forth in a furious hiss. "If you think that I am going to allow this plan of yours, you are beyond daft. If you lay one hand upon me in such a manner I will kill you with my bare hands. Do not doubt my ability to do so, Son of Gondor."  
  
The eyes of the king had turned cold like winters deepest chill. "Is there anything that you require to make your stay more pleasant, My Lady?" The voice was frosty and mocking.  
  
"Why, yes I do, My Lord." Legolas replied with venom. "I require my clothing, my bow, my knives, my things, my horse, and my own body back. I require THIS," he indicated the collar around his neck, "gone, and I demand all of this immediately."  
  
Aragorn smirked and then turned to Valda. "Countess, I leave in your capable hands my loving bride. I expect you will teach her what is expected of her." His attention was caught by a basket of yarn on the floor next to the seat, and he leaned down and picked up the drop spindle that rested within and held it up before him. "In fact, perhaps you should start teaching her how to spin now. Soon there will be much need for swaddling bands and infants clothing."  
  
He dropped the spindle negligently into Legolas' lap, and then ducked rapidly as it flew past his head at high velocity, landing with a meaty thunk in the wood door. He smirked again and turned to go.  
  
"A moment, my King." Davyn's voice was soft, but Aragorn froze immediately, his back stiff. He turned back to the mage and waited. "I wish to check the state of the spell I have placed. It will take but a moment."  
  
With these words, Davyn approached Legolas, his hand extending slowly out like a snake, sleeve falling back from his forearms. The tattoos seemed to writhe even in daylight, and both humans were caught in their spell. They were both frozen, unseeing.  
  
Fury evaporated in the elf's breast and turned to icy fear. He looked away from the arm and up into the face of the man approaching. The kind smile that was on his lips did not touch the brown eyes at all. Legolas leaned back, away from the touch, breathing in small gasps of fear. The finger touched the stone at his throat and he blinked.  
  
He was on the blue plain again, in that completely desolate wasteland. He looked down upon himself and saw that he was in his own body again. Suddenly wind whipped up and around him and an icy cold finger touched his heart. He could feel the warmth and life flowing out of him, away from him, and into the wind. He weakened and fell to his knees.  
  
He blinked again, and he was again seated in the window, and the mage was withdrawing his hand. Great fatigue and weakness filled his limbs. Then his attention was drawn back to the mage's face. The hollows were gone, the dark circles filled in, and an appearance of youth was now evident. There was a new spring to his step as he turned to go and was followed by the king.  
  
Legolas gasped slightly and touched the stone at his throat. It was becoming more evident by the moment that there was something horribly wrong in Gondor. 


	3. chapter 3

Part 3.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Legolas, Aragorn, Arwen, Middle-earth or anything. I don't claim to be an expert on Middle-earth or Tolkien. I just like writing down unusual ideas that come to mind. I guess that makes me sick and twisted. Oh well.  
  
Thank you for reviewing, and can I just say that the following people need to be read if you haven't already.  
  
JastaElf. My God, what a great writer. Your heart will break. Seriously.  
  
TreeHugger. I ::HEART:: Egla Ash. I so want him to live happily ever after.  
  
Ithilien: Wow. Just reading her latest chapter brought tears to my eyes. Of course I was already crying from JastaElf's chapter 3 of her latest, so it really was a slippery slope downwards anyway, but still. Great.  
  
…………….  
  
  
  
"I want my things." Legolas knew he sounded petulant, but at this point he really didn't care. "It has been six days that I have been trapped in this gilded prison, and I am tired unto death of it. I want my things."  
  
Valda looked up from the sewing in her lap, and nodded to Arnlaug. The man cleared his throat and shifted in his seat in front of the fire, embarrassed and ill at ease. "The King has forbidden that you should have anything that would remind you of your old life. Once your position is strengthened by the conception of an heir, we might be able to convince him to allow you a few things. Although I doubt that you will ever be allowed your weapons or old clothing."  
  
Legolas blinked for a moment and then looked at the older man sitting across from him. "To what purpose does he do this? Does he think that I will forget who I am, become meek and mild and submit to this contemptible plan of his?" The elf stood smoothly and walked to the window. The wan sunlight did little to warm his pale skin.  
  
The chancellor grunted as he levered himself out of his chair. His footsteps were heavy and slow as he moved to stand nearby. "Whether or not you become meek and mild, or remain the hellion that you are, I fear you will have little choice but to submit. You know as well as I that if he was willing to allow this to be done to you, then he will have little hesitation in forcing his will upon you tomorrow."  
  
Turning from the window, Legolas looked into the eyes of the chancellor. "I would prefer that he force me. It is well known that my kind will not survive such treatment, and I would prefer to die."  
  
With a long-suffering sigh Arnlaug shook his head. "I will not mince words with you. We have talked before many times, you and I, and I know that you are not a fool." The man pushed on a delicate shoulder, forcing the elf to sit on the window seat. "I know that you can see that there is much wrong here. But it is also my hope that this can be repaired."  
  
Legolas became very still, and waited for the older man to continue.  
  
"There is an evil force at work on the king. You know of what I speak." Arnlaug waited for the golden head to give a slight nod. "Yes, you know exactly of what I speak."  
  
The prince absently fingered the band around his neck. "I know of what you speak." "Why have you not taken care of this before? Surely you knew long before now that this was a threat?"  
  
The Chancellor sat heavily next to the elf, his joints protesting. While he looked young, he felt his age more and more with every passing day. "Ask Valda why she wears widow's weeds. Ask how Regin, a commoner, found such a high position in the King's favor. Ask how Gilby got his limp and you will find the same answer to all these questions."  
  
Legolas raised an eyebrow and waited.  
  
Combing his hair back from his face with a hand, the man looked suddenly as old as he felt. "When he first came to us, he was charming and ingratiating. His advice was good, his deeds were better, and his help in many matters immeasurable. It was based on this that he was allowed to spend more time with the Council, and with the King. The Queen did not like him, and would have little to do with him. The King and the rest of us merely thought it was yet another instance of her turning away from humanity." He paused sadly. "She really was not happy here, poor thing. It was like capturing a bright songbird and caging it in a dark corner."  
  
Arnlaug sighed and shifted. His joints were more stiff than he had ever remembered them being before. "He became ever present, working his way into the most important of discussions, the most secret of Councils. The king allowed him to do this, and spent more and more time with him. Those who said anything against this were treated to their faces with all civility and humility, but…" The old man sighed and shook his head again.  
  
Valda's calm voice startled Legolas. She had somehow come to stand next to his elbow without him noticing. Her hands smoothed the white silk of the wedding dress she was finishing. "My husband was a good man. Admittedly, we had made a political marriage many years before, but he did not put me aside when I could not bear him children. I was… fond… of him." Her voice shook slightly. "He was the first to raise objection to the mage. He told the king that the mage had given no reason for his coming here, had given no explanation of from whence he came, and that when inquiries were made, none had memory of him."  
  
"What happened?" Legolas feared he already knew the answer.  
  
Valda's eyes were dark with grief. "The king set Gilby to have his agents find more information, which they never were able to do. It was as if the Mage had never existed before he came to us. Two weeks after the inquiry was complete, my husband was killed. Thrown from his horse." She turned her face so her tears would not fall on the snowy material. "My husband was descended from Rohan stock. He was born to his saddle. There is not a horse that he could not ride." Her voice became bitter. "Yet he was thrown and died with a snapped neck." Tears hung in her lashes, flashing like ice crystals in the cold of the room.  
  
Arnlaug continued. "Regin took the Count's place on the Council. I do not malign him, for he is a good man but a strong supporter of the Mage. Gilby suffered a fall soon after his inquiry, and broke his leg. It still has yet to heal fully and pains him. We feel that it was meant as a warning. There have been many others of the nobility who have looked askance or questioned, and then succumbed to wasting sicknesses or hunting accidents, or even simple things as tainted food. Those who challenge him are soon dead."  
  
Legolas shook his head sadly and spoke. "He has insinuated himself into Aragorn's confidences, and into his mind. I did not recognize it for what it was until it was too late. I thought that I saw his grief for his loss of Arwen, not the presence of another in his mind." He sighed and touched the gem at his throat. "I am bound to this body, to this place. I no longer feel the call of the sea or my people. And I think that the mage is quite happy to have me helpless here. He has other… uses… for me."  
  
Valda sank gracefully to her knees and touched Legolas' elbow. The white cloth pooled around her knees, and she deftly twitched it off the floor. "I know that there is still something left of our king. I see it in his eyes, flashes of him. I know that if we get him away from the mage we can bring him back to us. I know this in my heart."  
  
"Perhaps", said Legolas slowly "one of you could lure the mage away? Trap him? Kill him?"  
  
"No." Arnlaug shook his head. "We have tried. The king will not allow his mage to leave his side for more than a few moments. Any attempt to work against the mage will not only cause Davyn to move, but bring down the wrath of the king."  
  
"This is a problem, but why do you share this with me? I am your prisoner. I have no power in this situation, much less my own." The elf frowned at the chancellor. "Besides, I thought you approved of what has been done here."  
  
The man met Legolas' eyes directly. "I approve of anything that is good for my people. I cannot argue that what was done to you was wrong, but what might result from this may outweigh that wrong. You are in an unusual position and we would be fools if we didn't take advantage of it."  
  
Valda clasped her hands together, as if in prayer. "You see, no one has been able to be alone with the king for any significant amount of time. No one has been able to speak with him alone, or have any interaction alone with him for months." She then moved her hands up and gripped the elf's knee. "But starting tomorrow, there will be one person whom he HAS to be alone. The mage cannot assist him in what needs to be done. And this person is also a friend who can perhaps bring back the king who was."  
  
Legolas blinked numbly as he looked into Valda's upturned face.  
  
She rushed on. "And once you conceive an heir, you are untouchable. The mage could not harm you for fear of damaging the unborn, and the king would not allow harm to come to you because of what you bear. You are in a unique situation, and a powerful one."  
  
Eyes wide with shock, Legolas looked up to the waiting Chancellor. He finally found his voice. It was numb. "You ask too much of me. I cannot do this."  
  
Arnlaug's face darkened. "You MUST do this. The fate of this kingdom rests upon our freeing the king from the influence of the one who controls him. I would ask no less from my own daughter or any maiden who was in this selfsame situation."  
  
"You forget yourself. I am no maiden. I am a warrior and a prince." At the man's raised eyebrow, Legolas continued. "I am imprisoned in a body that is not my own, but my mind is still steadfastly mine and male. The very concept of what you propose sickens me."  
  
"It may sicken you, fair one, but it is a necessary evil." The man leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I will be blunt. Not only must we get the king away from Davyn, we must KEEP him away. That means not only must you do your duty and lay with him, you must encourage him to return to you and stay with you beyond the fundamental completion of the act of getting an heir. You must drive a wedge between the two of them with your body."  
  
"My husband's death will not be in vain, Legolas." With a voice that was so quiet it sounded of the exhalation of breath instead of speech Valda continued, "He will not have died in vain if we can defeat the one who killed him. I want justice, Legolas. I call upon you to bring me justice. It is your duty as one with royal blood."  
  
Head bowed, Legolas shook his head. "No. You cannot ask this of me." His voice sounded weak even to his ears.  
  
"I do more than ask this of you. I DEMAND it of you." Valda stood to glare down at the prince. "Davyn did this to you. And the only way to break free of him is to defeat him at his own game and sever his control of the king." Her face softened. "You have none of your usual weapons to fight the battle with, so you must use the ones that you have been given as a woman. I wager that you will find them more formidable than you now think."  
  
Arnlaug reached over and placed a large hand on the elf's slender shoulder. "Sometimes we must do things that we find loathsome in order to benefit the greater good. The choice is always hard to make, but the end result of a good choice is usually worth the pain. With luck, we can break the bond between the king and Davyn. Once that is done, we can capture him and force him to release you from this spell."  
  
Legolas did not respond. He simply looked from one human to the other with large, haunted eyes, and then turned to look out the window. Tomorrow loomed much closer and he was suddenly very afraid of what the new day would bring.  
  
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The woman in the mirror was very beautiful, Legolas decided. She had been sewn into a flowing white silk gown that embraced every curve with a lovers touch. Her hair was loose and shone in the weak winter sunlight. Valda had placed upon her head an elven style crown made with mithril and gold beaten into the shape of tender spring leaves, and draped over this a translucent veil of the finest silk. The gem at her throat flashed with a life of its own, and even the collar looked becoming, if one could ignore what it really was.  
  
Legolas raised a hand to the woman before him and they touched fingertip to fingertip in the glass. "I will not accept this. I will not agree to this," he told her quietly.  
  
"It does not matter if you agree to this or not. It will happen regardless." Davyn walked up slowly behind the elf. Legolas did not turn but watched him approach in the mirror from over the woman's shoulder. "Gondor does not recognize a female's right to choose her husband, or to do much else, for that matter." The mage continued. He came to stand at one side of the elf and looked appreciatively at the vision before him.  
  
Legolas finally turned to look at him, but still said nothing.  
  
"You are my finest work, you realize. I had never attempted anything of this magnitude before, but you are exquisite." The tight smile never reached Davyn's eyes.  
  
"Why have you done this?" Finally Legolas could speak around the lump in his throat. It came out as a tense whisper.  
  
Davyn moved closer, so close that he could smell the scent of the golden hair. "The magic is leaving Middle-earth. There are so few of your people left and they leave in greater numbers each day. They are taking the magic with them." He leaned even closer. "I can't survive if the magic goes, so I had to capture a little of it for myself. It's perfect, really. I get what I need from you; the king gets what he needs from you. And when you have children, they'll be able to support my needs as well. I can hold out for generations, if I'm careful."  
  
"And what of me?"  
  
"And what of you? We will take, and you will give. There is nothing else to be said of it." The mage's smile finally reached his eyes. "And of course, you cannot speak of this. I have bound you from that as well."  
  
The elf looked sadly back into the mirror. The woman was even more beautiful in her despair. 


	4. Chapter 4

Warning: This chapter is why I rated this NC 17. If you do not like to read about nonconsensual sexual actions, this may not be for you. Mind you, I do not write graphic sex scenes, but I do try to write for a high emotional impact. I found it draining to write this.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas, or Middle Earth. I think I would probably drive the real estate values way down in ME if I did, actually. Scary thought.  
  
Notes: It was actually an accepted custom to use the gauntlet of a king or prince as a proxy for marriages and engagements. They would have someone wear the gauntlet and that person would do all the grooms duties (except the obvious, of course) and the poor girl would be married to some geezer hundreds of miles away with nothing to show for it but a glove.  
  
"Capture the King" is an archaic for Chess.  
  
  
  
Oh… And Jastaelf. You are ::so:: on. Your turn.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"It is almost time", Arnlaug said as he walked into the small room. Wan light shone down from a high window slit and illuminated the elf standing motionless in front of a mirror. Legolas turned to the chancellor and the man's breath was taken away by the vision he beheld. "I would be remiss in my duties if I did not say that you make an incredibly beautiful bride", he added.  
  
Arnlaug was richly dressed in velvet and brocade, his chain of office slung across his shoulders. He walked stiffly, perhaps from the new boots he wore. The oddest thing was that he wore gauntlets of the finest leather, dyed moss green and embroidered with the device of the Thranduil, King of Mirkwood.  
  
Legolas winced at the compliment, but made no reply. He then took the few steps to Arnlaug's side, touched the gauntlets with one hesitant finger and asked quietly, "What is this? Why do you bear the arms of my father?"  
  
"It is the custom of our people that a woman to be wedded be given to her husband by her father or nearest male relative. I am merely acting as a proxy and the glove symbolizes your father's approval of this union." Arnlaug shrugged sheepishly. "I would almost think it funny in any other circumstance, for you are so much older than I, and yet I am to act as your father."  
  
Finger still tracing the design picked out on the buttery leather, Legolas met the man's eyes defiantly. "I know my father would never approve of such a thing or allow this to happen if he were still in Middle-earth. His opinion of mortals is not high. He does not see the charm in them that I do."  
  
With a deliberate motion, Arnlaug caught the elf's hand and placed it on top of his own, and then wrapped his fingers carefully around the slender hand. "I have been bidden to tell you that it is not necessary that you be conscious at your own wedding, and that if you chose to be contentious Davyn will simply drug you into insensibility. He would have already done so if Valda and I had not assured the king of your good behavior."  
  
Legolas tried to pull his hand away, but the man tightened his grip.  
  
"I would caution you on this, Legolas. I would not think it out of the realm of possibility if the next time you woke from such a drugging that it would be next year and you would have a babe at your breast. If such a thing happens, you will be unable to effect any changes in the demeanor of those you hold dear."  
  
"I know this. I also know that I am sorely afraid of what is to come." The elf's voice faltered. "I do not know if I am strong enough to do what you demand of me."  
  
"You will have to be strong enough. There is no other option." Arnlaug awkwardly patted the hand he held as he heard noises from outside the door. "It is time. Stand straight and proud and together we will walk to the great hall. You will say nothing unless either King or I instruct you to do so. Once we are done with the ceremony, we will then go for the wedding feast. Again, you will say nothing unless you are instructed by one of us. You will be a model of decorum and grace."  
  
"I have no choice but to be, don't I?" Legolas said softly.  
  
"No." Arnlaug's heart broke for the sadness in the sweet voice. "You have no choice." He then took the slim, pale hand he held and maneuvered it around his arm so that he was properly escorting his king's bride. "You shall blind all the Barons and Lords with your beauty. They will fall to their knees for a smile from you."  
  
"Lovely. Just what I've always wanted. Lamed blinded Barons."  
  
The man let out a quiet snort as he escorted the elf through the door.  
  
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The great hall was much as Legolas had remembered it from his arrival the week before, except that it was now completely lit and decorated. The winter had been harsh and greenery was limited, but boughs of evergreens were above the doors and the great mantel of the fireplace. Their sharp scent filled the air, almost covering the smell of the people that were occupying the room and the smell of cooking food from the kitchens. The banners and tapestries had been cleaned and rehung, and iron chandeliers hung from the rafters, holding candles that illuminated the hall.  
  
::Truly, this is what the glory of Gondor should be:: thought Legolas to himself. ::Unfortunately, I wish the occasion that I saw it on could have been drastically different:: He could feel the pressure of eyes upon him as he walked slowly to the front of the room, arm in arm with the Chancellor of Gondor. Arnlaug felt the tightening of muscles and placed his other hand on top of the pale one he had on his arm, trying to comfort his charge.  
  
The Lords and Barons and their ladies stood as one, each one looking into his face as he walked by. Their expressions ranged from approval to amazement to awe, for few of them had ever seen an elf except for Arwen. Legolas turned his eyes to the rushes on the floor, not wanting to see their faces. Surely they all knew that he was reluctant, unwilling of this "honor"?  
  
After an incredibly long, yet entirely too short of a walk Legolas stood before Aragorn and the rest of his council. As one, they all bowed to Arnlaug and then to him. Davyn stood to the right of his king, a satisfied smirk on his face. His smile broadened when Legolas met his eyes, and Legolas went cold and tried to take a step backwards. Arnlaug tightened his grip and held the elf in place.  
  
Gilby limped forward, holding a large roll of parchment in his long hands. "Who speaks for this woman?"  
  
"I do", responded Arnlaug. "I stand proxy for her father, Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, who has passed into the west."  
  
Gilby nodded and then turned to his king. "My king, your bride has been brought forth for your approval."  
  
Aragorn stepped forward and looked closely at the elf. Legolas met his eyes squarely, trying to see his friend, beg soundlessly for this to stop, but he could find nothing, no one in them that he knew. "I approve. Continue."  
  
Gilby bowed slightly and then turned back to Arnlaug. "Do you warrant that this woman is pure and untouched?"  
  
"I warrant so." Arnlaug applied more pressure on the hand in his grasp, feeling the tensing of muscles, the intake of breath in protest. Legolas gasped softly in pain and settled for trying to ignite Gilby's hair with the heat of his stare.  
  
"The king has found this acceptable and has set terms for the taking of his wife. Are they agreeable to you?" Gilby would not meet Legolas' gaze, instead finding a spot on the far wall much more interesting and compelling.  
  
"They are." Arnlaug transferred the grip he had on the captive hand to his left and leaned over with his right to take the quill that Gilby then offered, and then made his mark on the proffered parchment.  
  
Gilby made a show of examining the signature and then turned again to show it to his king. Aragorn nodded and then stepped forward and extended his hand to Arnlaug.  
  
Arnlaug bowed and then took Legolas' captive hand and placed it into the hand of his king. "She is yours, Majesty." The chancellor stepped backwards and Aragorn moved to take his place, winding the arm around his, exerting subtle force when Legolas tried to resist by pulling away.  
  
"Softly now, little one. We're almost done." Aragorn's whispered words were gentle, but the tone was like ice and chilled the elf to the bone.  
  
Gilby passed the parchments to the others of the council; each one of them making their marks to witness what was being done, like notaries at a horse auction. ::Is this all that I am to them? A possession? Livestock?:: thought the elf, watching with a growing sense of horror at the ease with which he became what amounted to another man's property. ::I sorely feel for any woman who lives in this place, to be treated as though she were naught but a trinket::  
  
Finally, the parchment was brought again to Aragorn. Arnlaug stepped next to him, this time in his role as the chancellor, and handed over the great seal of Gondor and a lit taper of sealing wax. The scent of the wax was cloying, and the sound of the molten droplets hitting the parchment seemed to echo across the silent hall.  
  
Aragorn paused and looked up to Legolas' face, seal hovering over the parchment. Legolas met his gaze and silently mouthed a single "No", putting all of his hope into the thought that perhaps some small part of Aragorn would stop and realize what he was doing. But all Aragorn did was smile sweetly, look at him with the cold eyes of a stranger, and then press the seal home into the cooling wax. The deed was done.  
  
Legolas could feel his face fall into an expression of shock when he was then turned to face the people in the hall who then erupted into cheers and applause. "You have received the approval of the people of Gondor, Legolas", Aragorn said softly as he steered his new Queen to the high table for the feast. "Now, all you must do is receive mine."  
  
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Seated between Aragorn and Arnlaug, Legolas had barely endured the feast. Pungent aromas from strange and exotic foods had caused his already queasy stomach to want to leave the immediate vicinity with little consideration for the rest of his body. Aragorn playing the doting husband, and offering choice tidbits on the tip of his knife did not help the situation. It appeared that refusal was also not an option; he had turned his head away several times, only to have an elbow or knee tightly squeezed in warning. Bruises notwithstanding, he simply chose to delicately accept the proffered food and try not to vomit.  
  
Acrobats and jugglers performed amongst the tables, and the musicians played merry tunes full of discord and sour notes. It was nothing like the stately, otherworldly music of his people, and the strangeness of it all made him even more confused. Roaring laughter and loud talk filled the air above the music and rang in his ears, and he found himself completely disoriented. His attention focused itself upon his right hand, which he saw was now enfolded in Aragorn's left. The king was deep in conversation with Davyn, but the thumb moved slowly, gently upon the sensitive palm.  
  
Legolas tried to pull his hand away, but the fingers tightened cruelly and Aragorn turned to look at his bride. With a grim smile, he gestured to Valda, seated on the other side of Arnlaug. "Countess, my Lady looks weary. Please escort her to our rooms and prepare her for bed." He then brought the captive hand up to his lips and turned it to kiss the palm. "I will follow soon after." His smile was anything but reassuring as he gently released the elf.  
  
Valda stood smoothly, brushing the front of her skirts down. She then took Legolas' silk clad elbow and helped him to rise. The room became quiet as every eye turned to the head table to watch as the bride was taken to her rooms. Cheers, laughter and ribald advice followed the women from the great hall. Two other women joined them in the passageway, both curtseying deeply to their new queen, and then walking a few steps behind.  
  
Head clearing as they began to climb stairs, Legolas began to take note of where he was. They were heading towards the royal apartments by way of the back staircase. He had been there before in happier times when he had privately dined with Aragorn and Arwen. Now it appeared that he was to be installed there.  
  
They made the trip in silence to the Queen's chambers. The heavy oaken door was ornately carved, but Legolas still noted the new lock that had been placed on the door. Its newly milled brass gleamed in the rushlights.  
  
Valda produced from a hidden fold in her skirts a matching newly made key, opened the door and then stepped to one side so that Legolas could precede her into the rooms.  
  
They passed through a sitting room and into the bedroom. A large bed sat upon a pedestal, a canopy of black and silver above, and bedcurtains with the White Tree were tied back to the posters. The bed was piled with comforters and pillows, almost Byzantine in its splendor. To the far side of the bed stood a tall mirror.  
  
A fire burned in the hearth, warming the immediate area in front of it. There were two chairs facing each other with a small table in between, perfect for intimate meals and discussions. A single window of leaded glass faced the innermost courtyard of the palace and overlooked the gardens. There were 2 doors in the room. One they had just stepped through from the sitting room, the other led to the King's bedchamber.  
  
Legolas jumped as one of the maids touched his shoulder and directed him to stand in front of the fire. She was petite, with delicate, fair features and silvery blonde hair. Merry blue eyes twinkled in the firelight as she curtseyed again and then produced a small knife.  
  
She gently cut the threads across his back that had held the dress onto his body. They popped and the dress loosened and finally fell to his shoulders. She then came and cut the seams on the sleeves, and gently pulled the fine material from his arms.  
  
The undershift soon went the way of the dress and then the maid pulled from next to the hearth a small pot of warm, scented water and a sponge. Legolas allowed himself to be bathed by the young woman and breathed deeply of the fragrance.  
  
The woman noticed this and said quietly, "Lavender and rosemary, my Lady. To cleanse the soul and to aid in conception." She didn't notice the flinch the elf gave, and continued. "The sponge is a sea sponge that was brought to us from traders from the east. There is nothing like it to soothe and smooth the skin."  
  
The other maidservant was busily turning down the covers and blankets on the bed, and strewing the sheets with dried herbs. Her curly dark hair hung down across her face and draped across an ample bosom. Her eyes twinkled with an avid intelligence, and at her waist a ring of keys hung and clinked with a deceivingly happy jingle.  
  
The blonde servant carefully dried the elf with a towel, and then began to rub scented oil into his skin. "Not that you need this, mind you", she said, "for you already are as soft and sweet as a rosebud."  
  
The bed now completed, the dark haired maid disappeared for a moment and then returned with a filmy nightshift and a finely wrought long golden chain.  
  
Valda took the chain from the maid and then moved forward and placed it around the elf's small waist. It hung loosely around his hips.  
  
The two maidservants then placed the shift over his head and pulled it gently down. The fabric was so fine that it was practically transparent. A gathered neckline was held in place with a fine silk ribbon, tied loosely. The sleeves were long and gathered to the wrists and also tied.  
  
The small blonde reached up and removed the crown from the golden head, while the other combed the hair straight and free. Then both stood side by side and bowed.  
  
"Lady", spoke the blonde, "I am Lanelese, your head bodyservant."  
  
"Lady", spoke the brunette, "I am Clotild, keeper of the keys to your wardrobe."  
  
As one, they bowed and left the room, leaving Legolas alone with Valda.  
  
The woman reached out and touched a lock of Legolas' hair. "Everything here has symbolism. The herbs in the bed are to remove foul humors from the air and to ease conception. The chain at your waist shows that you are bound to your husband. The bath was to clean impurities that could prevent conception or damage your child. The gauze of the shift shows your innocence." She paused, and then smiled ironically. "We are a very symbolic people."  
  
Taking a deep breath, Legolas said quietly, "I am not strong enough to do what you ask. I cannot do this."  
  
Valda simply caressed the soft hair again, and then bowed into a deep curtsey. She looked up from her place on the floor, and then smiled gently. "You are stronger than you realize, but not in the ways you would expect. I wish you a good night, my Lady."  
  
With barely a rustle of skirts, the woman was gone, and there was the sound of a bolt being thrown on the door.  
  
Before the sound had died, Legolas was at the window. The metal of the latch was frozen. He struggled with it, and finally broke the ice that was in the lock. The windows slowly opened to reveal the iron bars that blocked his flight to freedom. He touched them briefly, feeling the cold burn into his skin. He swung the windows shut again, and then turned to survey the room.  
  
He could see next to him the mirror, and the woman therein. Her eyes were wide, her breath unsteady. He reached to touch the mirror briefly, but then saw something over her shoulder that made him turn and run to the fireplace.  
  
There was nothing else in this room that he could conceivably use as a weapon except for this. A pair of small ornamental daggers were crossed and mounted on the wall above the device of the Queen of Gondor. Standing on tiptoe, feet almost in the hot ashes of the fireplace, he was able to stretch up and place his hand on one of the hilts and pull. Nothing. It was stuck.  
  
Biting his lip in frustration he then pulled on the other. It moved slightly but would not come down. With a sound almost like a stifled sob, he tried again, feeling the heat from the fire start to burn his skin. With a soft rasp, the dagger came free suddenly and he almost fell backwards.  
  
He examined the dagger and found that the edge was exceptionally dull, and the metal brittle and weak. Any other time he would have turned his nose up at such a poorly made weapon, but now he had no choice.  
  
At that moment, the bolt was shot and the door opened.  
  
Aragorn walked into the room and closed the door firmly. He turned and saw that Legolas had moved to place the chairs in between them. He also noted the dagger that was held with deadly competency in one hand. "Good", he said. "I thought that you were a bit too docile today. I was wondering when you would start being difficult."  
  
With a casual air he slowly walked to the fireplace, pulling off his heavily embroidered over tunic as he went. "So, are we to play a game of "Capture the Queen" then?" He placed another log on the fire as he spoke. "I warn you, I am very good at such games, and you might not like it when I win." He then stripped off his under tunic, revealing a well-muscled chest.  
  
It was then that Legolas saw that he wore around his neck a braided metal torc. It shone with a malevolent gleam in the firelight, wrapping around the king's strong neck, and terminating in finials shaped like the White Tree on either side of his throat.  
  
As Aragorn stood and moved slowly towards him, Legolas shifted around, always keeping a piece of furniture between them. "Where did you get that thing around your neck?" he asked, trying to distract the king.  
  
Aragorn raised a hand and touched the torc and smiled, but continued his stalking. The two of them moved around the chairs and table like a pair of hunting cats. "Davyn made this. He has wound his strength and blood into it so that he will always be bound to Gondor and to me. I have made it part of the kingdom regalia." He made a fast grab at an outstretched arm but danced back when the dagger flashed towards him.  
  
"I do not trust your mage." Legolas could say no more, for his tongue stuck to the top of his mouth when he tried to go on.  
  
"Of course you don't. He did this to you. I wouldn't expect you to trust him." Aragorn smiled even deeper. He had detected something in the smooth movements of the elf he was chasing.  
  
Making a feint and a quick twist, he reached out and under the blade of the dagger and grabbed the wrist. With a hard pull, he yanked Legolas off his feet and pulled him forward to land on the floor, knee placed firmly into the small of the back. Squeezing the wrist harder, he grabbed the dagger from the loosened fingers and threw it into the fireplace. "You are unused to this body, my friend, and it shows. You're off balance and unable to move in the ways that you are used to."  
  
"Get off of me." The voice was angry and muffled in the carpet.  
  
The king smiled in a perverse amusement as he pulled up Legolas up by his shoulders. He found it easy enough to turn him so that the elf was restrained, his back to Aragorn's stomach, arms pinned to his sides by Aragorn's much stronger arm. Legolas still struggled, but was held tight. "You've also lost physical strength, Legolas. You're not nearly as strong as I remember." It was while he spoke these words that Aragorn used his free hand to untie the neckline of the shift and pull the fabric at the neck and chest loose.  
  
"Please, Aragorn, I beg of you, do not do this. If there is any part of the you that I knew still left, please hear me." Legolas watched as the large hand paused for a moment, and then moved slowly to investigate the body laid bare beneath it. Calluses scratched and rubbed against skin that had never been so sensitive before. The hand wandered across breasts, and then moved down to work its way beneath the hem of the shift.  
  
"I hear you, little one, but I know my duty, as do you." The king began to stand, taking Legolas with him, and then turned and lifted his captive over one shoulder and dumped the flailing body unceremoniously onto the bed.  
  
The dried herbs crinkled under Legolas' back as he landed roughly on the mattress, releasing a sharp clean smell. He sank into the featherbed and scrambled gracelessly for a moment, trying to regain his balance and get away, but a rough hand already rested on his shoulder, and then the weight of a body fell upon him.  
  
::No!:: , his mind screamed. ::This is not right. This is not natural. This is not as it should be:: He tried to struggle but was pinned onto the bed. A hot mouth was exploring first an ear, and then the neck. Teeth slid across the golden collar, making him shudder with the unpleasant sensation. A tongue then swirled around the gem at his throat and then traced lower.  
  
::No!! This cannot be happening. This is not real:: His mind raced, trying to find a way to reconcile sensations from places he wasn't supposed to have. He managed to work a hand free and tried to push the offending body away, but he was not strong enough.  
  
"No, please. I do not want this." He could feel his voice break with unshed tears. Aragorn could hear them too, because he lifted his head and gazed into the eyes of the elf below him. In that unguarded moment, the gray eyes cleared and looked at the elf with an expression of gentle surprise.  
  
After a brief moment the eyes changed back to their now normal coldness, but it was enough for Legolas. ::He still lives. He is trapped inside his mind, bound like I am. I have to set him free, somehow. But how?:: His eyes moved to the torc that gleamed around the dark throat, and with his free hand reached towards it.  
  
However, his hand was quickly captured and borne down to the mattress again, joining its mate in one of Aragorn's large hands. The eyes pinned him even further into the soft bed while the free hand roughly pulled the shift up around his waist and then moved between his legs. The hand moved to roughly pull first one, then the other of his legs higher against the hips that held him captive, and then to pull down the waistband of the woolen trousers that Aragorn still wore.  
  
Intense pressure. Stabbing pain. ::NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. This is not happening. NO NO NO NO NO.:: Tears sprang to the elf's eyes as he tried to arch his back and get away from the thing that pinned him to the mattress, but the assault continued with another thrust. And another. A feeling of resistance, increased pressure, then a tearing. A grunt from the creature atop of him, and the feel of wetness on his cheeks. ::No. This cannot be.::  
  
A pause, and a gentle touch to wipe away a tear, completely unexpected in its tenderness, followed by more pressure, more pain, more thrusting. If one looked at the silver and black canopy that hung over the bed the right way, and listened to the squeak of the bedframe ropes, one could almost think they were on a ship on a clear night, heading west across the sea. If one could ignore the violation.  
  
His eyes returned to the torc that now swayed mere inches from his nose. ::There is the problem. But what is the solution?:: The metal radiated a bitter, malevolent cold that made him cringe back from contact with it every time it came near. ::I cannot touch it; I cannot tell anyone of it. I must get it away from him, but how?::  
  
Increasing speed, but less pain now. It was almost bearable. ::How do women endure this? I am quite sure that I have never caused a woman to feel this pain. Or have I?:: A hand roughly tangled in his hair and lips pressed to his own, a moan emptying into a mouth as seed emptied into a womb. Gasping for breath and shuddering sensation, followed by stillness.  
  
Aragorn rolled off, with surprising tenderness kissed his bride, and then pulled the shift down from around Legolas's waist. "This was the worst, I swear. You will learn to enjoy my attentions soon enough."  
  
Legolas looked up at the man, lips parted to speak when there came a loud pounding on the door. "My King!" Davyn's voice came through the door, muffled but still recognizable. "My King! Are you done? The night is still young and your guests are waiting for you to join them in celebration."  
  
The king wrinkled his nose in annoyance, but began to pull his trousers back up. Legolas watched him in stunned amazement as Aragorn left the bed and walked to grab his under tunic. ::They were right. I need to keep him away from that creature so that we may regain our friend::  
  
With some pain, Legolas sat upright on the bed, and pulled the neck of the shift up and over to one side, baring a shoulder and a breast. "Aragorn", he called softly. He couldn't hide the slight note of fear that was in his voice, but perhaps that was what drew Aragorn's eyes back to him with surprise and hunger. The man stared for a moment, clearly torn, but then dropped his tunic back on the floor and walked back towards the bed.  
  
"Davyn", he spoke to the door as he walked by, "Tell my guests that I have retired for the night with my Queen. They will be understanding."  
  
There was a shocked silence from the door, and then the voice asked, "Shall I come for you at dawn, My king?"  
  
"No. I will summon you when I'm ready for you. Now leave us in peace", he said as he pulled the bedcurtains closed. 


	5. chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my original characters and even they seem to resent it lately. I don't own ME. I don't own Legolas or Aragorn, and I have no money so think "Blood/Turnip" or "Diddly/Squat" as the mathematical equation of what a lawsuit could get from me.  
  
  
  
Jastaelf: I present you with a small chapter, but I hope this meets your approval so that I may read the next chapter of "Dark Leaf".  
  
And I am no longer behind. Sheesh.  
  
  
  
  
  
It was dark. The fire had long since died down, and the orange coals glowed sullenly through a covering of ash. They were barely visible through the dark cloth of the bedcurtains, and their occasional pop was the only sound in the room besides the creature's heavy breathing.  
  
That was the name that Legolas had placed on the entity that controlled Aragorn's body. The creature. He would not justify its existence with a proper name. It was a creature made up of barely controlled cruelty and instinct, and it somewhat answered to the mage that had created it. And somewhere within it dwelt the mind of his friend.  
  
The creature was exhausted from its earlier sport and slept deeply. Its head rested on Legolas' chest, the rest of its body sprawled on top of the elf. An arm rested heavily on his stomach; a leg was still between his own, almost as if claiming future rights. Legolas shifted in the bed slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, and the creature responded by stirring and clutching the elf even tighter. Legolas winced as sore muscles that he shouldn't have had in the first place throbbed in memory of their earlier abuse.  
  
He allowed his eyes to unfocus as he gazed at the canopy above them. He could almost pretend that there were stars above, gleaming softly down from a midnight sky. Almost. It had been a week since he had seen the stars, and he missed them.  
  
Sleep, even of the elvish kind, eluded him, and he turned his mind to the problem at hand.  
  
He allowed his eyes to slide down to the dark head that was pillowed on his chest. The long hair covered the torc from his sight, but he could still feel the baleful cold of it so close to his skin. ::How is it that no one has noticed this evil thing?::, He thought to himself. ::Even I could tell just by looking that it is something of ill intent::  
  
For the first time since this waking nightmare had started, he allowed his hand to explore the golden collar around his own neck, and trace the knots and whorls he felt there. ::Mine does not feel like his. It does not have the feel of malice woven into it, just of function and form.:: He was unsure if that thought comforted him.  
  
With deliberate movement, he slowly lowered his hand towards the torc. His knuckles began to ache with the chill when he was but an inch away. He took a deep breath and forced himself to lay his fingers upon the blisteringly cold metal.  
  
Hate. Vengeance. Punishment. A thirst for revenge that was so strong it made his stomach churn and clench. The cold was merely a physical manifestation of the evil emotions used to forge the torc. He gasped as he tried to work his fingers around the metal, feeling as if his flesh were being stripped to the bone. It would not budge. The pain was excruciating, but he tried again, shifting his grip so that he could grasp more of the offending article. Nothing.  
  
The creature woke slightly, grasped the small hand and pulled it away. Legolas did not struggle, the cold having leeched the strength from his fingers. With a sleepy grumble, the creature repositioned itself and fell back into a deep sleep.  
  
After a few moments, Legolas freed his hand from the loose grip and drew it up before his eyes. It burned, every nerve still on fire from its contact with the cursed thing, but the skin was unmarred. His eyes narrowed as he turned his hand to and fro and considered the situation.  
  
He was lost in thought when the household began to stir around them. He barely noticed when one of the maids came into the bedroom and rekindled the fire, or when the others came in to clean. The dark turned to grey as the new day dawned, and still he thought.  
  
The creature's hands began to move slowly across his body as it passed from sleep to awareness. He gave a token resistance, but knew that he would be unable to fight it off. And while he listened to the bedframe squeak, and watched the torc sway in front of his face, he pondered the situation deeply.  
  
When the creature had finished, given an awkward pat on the head, and left the room, he rolled onto his side, pulled his knees up to his chest, and sighed. He did not like where his thoughts were leading.  
  
It was with some amount of pain that he finally moved and put his feet on the floor and emerged from behind the bedcurtains and faced the pallid sunlight of the new day.  
  
The room was empty and quiet, almost peaceful. He found himself in front of the mirror, and looked at the woman within.  
  
Her shift was torn and hung open on top, and was bloodstained on the bottom. Bruises on her neck and collarbone were a lurid purple against her otherwise flawless skin. Her lips were swollen and stubble burned. Disheveled was probably the mildest word for her, yet she was still heartbreakingly beautiful.  
  
But the most striking things were her eyes. They were the same blue as the gem that shone at her throat, but they were fathoms deep. The sadness that was reflected there tugged at his heart as he slowly reached a hand up, and they touched fingertip to fingertip in the mirror.  
  
"Am I able to speak to you of this?" he wondered aloud in the quietest whisper. "After all, we are one in the same, are we not?" He paused and wondered how much of himself he had just lost, making that admission.  
  
She did not answer, so after a moment he took that as an invitation to continue.  
  
"I cannot win if I fight them directly or physically. I simply am not strong enough. I am trapped at every juncture. I must find another way." He looked at her intently. "Everything has a weakness. I will have to find the weakness that I know exists in the mage, and exploit it."  
  
Her eyes narrowed as she considered this, and she cocked her head to one side, obviously following his train of thought.  
  
He continued. "It's not unlike setting a trap in the forest at home. When I would hunt something that was bigger or stronger, I would have to devise a plan and a snare that could capture it. It's not that different at all." It sounded to his ears that he was trying to convince himself.  
  
She raised an eyebrow questioningly.  
  
"Yes, yes, I know. I will have to learn about my prey. Watch him. Lull him into a sense of security, so that he will grow careless. He is already arrogant with what he perceives as victory." He paused for a moment. "I must make him think that I am no threat, but I must still try to influence Aragorn away from him as much as possible. I do not know what is left of him in there, but I fear that he may cease to exist if this continues."  
  
Her face reflected his own troubled state of mind at that thought. The corners of her mouth turned down into an uneasy frown, and her eyes shifted to meet his again.  
  
"I will have to be compliant. Obedient."  
  
Eyes flashing, she raised a finger to a chin in thought.  
  
"Yes, but not too obedient. That would make them even more suspicious, wouldn't it? Aragorn remarked on that last night."  
  
They both winced together in unison, their thoughts obviously going back to the night before at the same time.  
  
"I must also find who I can trust here. This prey is too big to hunt alone. I think that I can depend on Arnlaug and Valda. There must be others."  
  
He allowed his gaze to fall on her shift, on the bloodstains, and then back to her face. The expression had hardened into a mask of anger.  
  
"And then he will taste my steel. I will put an end to this. I am patient. I am immortal. I have time."  
  
After a moment he allowed his eyes to fall to her abdomen, and he felt a moment's hesitation.  
  
"Or do I?"  
  
He met her eyes again in the mirror, and this time they looked especially haunted.  
  
  
  
  
  
0-0-0-0-0-0—0-00-  
  
After a soft knock, the door swung open and Valda walked in, accompanied by Lanelese and Clotild. The maids curtseyed deeply while Valda walked slowly to stand at Legolas' side, and surveyed him with a look of dismay.  
  
"I want a bath. I cannot bear the smell of him on my skin", Legolas said quietly.  
  
Valda gestured to the maids, who immediately busied themselves with the chore at hand, and then she drew the elf to sit painfully on the window seat and wait. She had brought a long, heavy robe that she wrapped around Legolas' shoulders.  
  
After a moment of silence, Valda spoke quietly. "The King has commanded that he shall luncheon with you privately here this afternoon." She paused at the silent shudder that Legolas gave. "He is very cognizant of his duties."  
  
Legolas simply nodded, drew the robe more tightly across his chest, and then quietly asked, "Where is he now?"  
  
The Countess thought for a moment. "I think riding. His normal routine is to wake at dawn and ride with Davyn. Then he closets himself with the council every morning until noon. He normally has lunch with Davyn, and then spends the afternoon either hearing petitions with the council or making inspections of the construction projects. I would expect with you here, the normal routine will be somewhat altered."  
  
Legolas nodded again. "And Davyn is always with him.  
  
With a curious look, Valda nodded. "Yes. Always."  
  
Legolas was silent again, and watched the maids directing a group of menservants to empty buckets of steaming water into a large wooden tub. He noticed that the menservants would look furtively at him for a moment and then scurry out. Many of the glances were a combination of awe and appreciation. ::All they see is the King's prize. They do not realize that while they are the servants, I am the slave.::  
  
"Valda", he said quietly, so quietly that no one, not the servants, not the maids, not the woman in the mirror, could hear him, "Whom can I trust? Who can I depend upon? Where do your loyalties lie?" He turned and fixed the woman with a deep gaze.  
  
Valda's face went blank. "My loyalties lie with Gondor, Legolas. I will do what is best for my people, no matter what the circumstance." She sat straighter and Legolas was reminded that this woman was of the highest noble blood. "I think I can say the same for Arnlaug and for Gilby."  
  
"And for the moment, your goals and my goals are the same." Legolas sighed. "But if my goals were to change, what then?" He didn't expect an answer to this question and was not surprised when she remained silent.  
  
"What of them? Can they be trusted?" Legolas nodded towards the two maids who were now scattering herbs and dried flower petals on the steaming water in the tub.  
  
"I personally chose them for your household. They are both extremely discrete, exceptionally loyal, and highly intelligent." Valda inspected a nail on her left hand closely. "You'll find they're also very attentive listeners to things they think may be of value to us."  
  
The elf raised his eyebrows and then nodded. One did not live in a royal court, obviously either elven or human, and not realize that the best source of information was the servant's quarters. Many a careless word had been dropped when there were only those people that most nobles thought of as less than themselves about.  
  
It was with a slightly lighter heart that he was able to bathe, Lanelese chattering cheerfully while she wielded her sponge with great vigor, Clotild offering a quiet but no less amusing counterpoint. She simply waited for her fairer partner to breathe to insert a comment here and there. It almost took his mind off of the upcoming meal.  
  
Clotild had brought out a pale blue gown that laced up the front, and a simple white chemise. Small blue slippers completed the outfit. Lanelese combed out the blonde hair and left it loose around his shoulders.  
  
Legolas soon found himself sitting by the window again while the small table and chairs were prepared for an intimate luncheon. The garden was visible from the window, but was bare from the harsh winter. The dark skeletons of trees reached towards the pale sun, seeking the warmth of spring, but failing. He was reflecting upon how similar his own heart felt when Valda touched him on the shoulder.  
  
"Tell me", she said "how is it with elf women when they bear children? How long do they carry? How do they know when they are bearing? What do they require during that time?"  
  
He blinked for a moment, his expression blank. "I know nothing about such things, Valda."  
  
"Surely you know something. Surely you were around women who bore children?"  
  
"I am among of the youngest of my kind. There were very few children born to my people after me." He turned his attention to the window and then continued. "I was raised as a warrior and a prince, and if I could not ride it, kill it, climb it, or fight it, it did not interest me. I had no intention of marrying or fathering children with our time so short in this land, and I never learned of such things."  
  
Valda frowned. "You are even more vague that Arwen was. I did not think that was possible. At least she was able to tell me that she thought elf women carried their children for a year, perhaps longer." She then smiled tightly. "The good thing is that no one else knows such things either, to include the mage and the king. We can probably tell them anything we would like and they would have to believe it. I think we can…" She paused for a moment, searching for the right word, "..Manipulate the facts when needed to get you certain things."  
  
He looked at her, waiting for her to explain.  
  
"I am quite certain that a breeding elf will need to be outside in the sun and air much more than a breeding human, for example." She smiled again. "And I'm also quite sure that a breeding elf will need to have ample time out of her rooms to walk about the palace and exercise. You see what I mean?"  
  
"I do not wish to speak of such things." He said it flatly, not wanting to deal with that right at this moment. He would address that issue only when he absolutely had to. The concept was still entirely too foreign for his mind to wrap itself around.  
  
She frowned again, but nodded her understanding. "The king will be here shortly. We should leave you now." She and the maids curtseyed and then left the room, throwing the bolt behind them.  
  
Legolas stood and walked to the mirror. The woman within looked much better, her bruises already fading, and her eyes not quite as haunted.  
  
::Well, I may have to be obedient and compliant, but I can work my way into it over a few days. Which means today, I can try my best to inflict a little pain on the creature in the process of becoming defeated and harmless:: He balled his hands into fists and waited.  
  
The woman in the mirror smiled grimly, and her eyes glittered with deeply hidden amusement when she heard the bolt pulled.  
  
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The first week passed with little incident, except for the King's black eye, which no one was allowed to discuss. It was said that the king was an amazingly attentive husband, spending each night and each noon meal with his new queen, forsaking his mage to do his duty for his country.  
  
The second and third weeks passed with even less incident. It was said in the servants quarters that the queen was becoming gentle and mild, (the rumor Lanelese and Clotild encouraged), and she was a good influence upon the King. His mood was noticeably better, and he spent less time with his mage. This made many people happy, except of course, for Davyn, who endured this with a harsh smile.  
  
There was much sadness as well, for the Chancellor of Gondor had fallen ill, his joints swollen and his body wracked with fever. The physicians said that there was little hope, but the man still clung to life with the stubbornness that he had always exhibited. It was whispered that he did so to spite Davyn, who would surely be appointed Chancellor in his stead.  
  
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	6. chapter 6

Standard Disclaimer: I don't own them. I don't make money off of them. Yadda yadda yadda, Yackity Smackity.  
  
I promise that much more will be revealed in the next chapter, but I had to go into the loss of self here…  
  
Jasta: Tag, You're it. (Knowing full well that you'll post some 20 page incredible Shakespearian quality epic that will just completely blow me away)  
  
  
  
  
  
Elven eyes watched the fire. The dancing flames twisted and turned and played out a drama in front of Legolas. Now one side would rise up and burn more intensely, now the other. But neither gained an advantage, and all would eventually burn themselves out. It was a most uncanny and unsatisfying show, he decided.  
  
He turned his attention back to the pitcher that he had placed on the hearth. With a furrowed brow he carefully poured the precious spices into the wine within and gently sloshed the vessel to mix them. Pulling the poker from the rack, he placed it into the heart of the fire to heat. It was with some surprise that he found that he was singing softly while he waited.  
  
He shifted position, pulling knees up to his chest as he sat on the floor, and continued to sing. His toes peeked out from under the hem of his shift, and were bronzed in the firelight.  
  
The door leading to the King's chamber quietly opened, and the creature emerged. It walked across the room, footsteps muffled by the thick carpets, until it stood next to the elf. Legolas sang quietly and looked up into the face of his captor. The expression was thoughtful, almost lost in remembrance. The grey eyes were half lidded, and the face painted in hues of orange and gold from the fire. The ends of the lips curled up into a slight smile.  
  
"I remember this song." Aragorn finally spoke. "We used to sing this when I was a child."  
  
Legolas nodded and continued to sing softly. Sometimes the smallest things would touch the soul of the man hidden within. After a moment, the King dragged a chair closer to the fire and lowered himself to sit, a deep sigh escaping his lips. His hand reached out almost of its own volition and gently fingered a lock of golden hair.  
  
The elf let his voice falter, the song fade. He instead took the now hot poker, tapped it against the side of the fireplace to knock off the ashes, and plunged it into the pitcher. The aroma of heated wine and spices filled the air, and Aragorn breathed deeply of the scent. He accepted the goblet that Legolas had poured and passed up to him from his place on the floor, and smiled. "You are soothing to the soul, even though you do not wish to be, Legolas."  
  
Saying nothing, Legolas instead moved the pitcher closer to the flames to keep the contents warm. He then returned the poker to the rack after momentarily considering, and then rejecting the thought that it would be exceptionally satisfying to beat the creature with it. In order to be considered harmless, one must actually seem to be harmless. Beating the creature senseless would hardly help him maintain that façade. Plus he had only been allowed the poker this week. It would be a shame to lose something that could be useful at some other time.  
  
The king sat and drank his wine and played with the lock of hair between his fingers for several minutes. Finally he spoke. "Today I had to mediate between landowners. It appears that their families have been fighting over the same strip of land for the last three generations. I rode out there today myself to see it." He paused for another drink. "It was the most desolate piece of earth I had ever seen, this side of Mordor. And to think that people have been killing each other over that wasteland…."  
  
"I will never understand humans." Legolas spoke quietly. "Our kind do not think to own the land as much as live with it. To think that you can own something that will go on and exist unchanged after you leave this world is unnatural." That barb was aimed at the hand that, even with all its gentleness, still proclaimed him as a possession of the king.  
  
There was a slight chuckle from the king. He recognized the dig for what it was, and it amused him that there was still spirit in the elf. "I think I solved it for them today. I proclaimed that the eldest daughter of one family will marry the eldest son of the other, and the children that they have will inherit all the lands together."  
  
"So you feel forcing a marriage will end this?" Legolas already knew the answer to this question, but still asked.  
  
"There are siblings." The king drank again from his goblet. "There will be no problems now, however, because all know what will happen to the siblings if they should not resolve this."  
  
Legolas shuddered as he realized what the king's solution involved for the siblings. He hoped their room in the dungeons was dry and clean. "I think you are a cruel man." The words fell from his lips before he could stop them.  
  
Low laughter came from behind him. "I clearly remember you telling me before that I was kind and gentle, and that any maiden would be honored to have me as husband." He chuckled again. "Did you not say that, and more?"  
  
"I lied." Legolas looked again at the poker. Maybe it would be worth that brief feeling of satisfaction after all. With a deep breath, he reached for the pitcher to refill the goblet that was lowered down to him. The activity kept him from having to say anything else.  
  
There was an amused snort behind him, but nothing further as the king drank deeply of his wine. Valda had been correct in her theory that the mulled wine would please the man, and make him more talkative. What Legolas had gleaned from their conversations of late had been interesting, but of little substance.  
  
After a few more minutes the empty goblet was handed back down, and the king lowered himself to the floor, legs stretched to surround the elf who sat there. Arms circled a narrow waist and pulled the small body close, in a confining embrace.  
  
Legolas stiffened at the touch of the other body, as he did every night. It took all his will not to struggle free of the arms that had wrapped themselves so tightly around him.  
  
The king nuzzled the pale neck, and then whispered quietly into a pointed ear, "So taut, so stiff, every muscle ready to fight or run. Can you not relax into my arms and enjoy what I offer you?"  
  
"No, I cannot. That would require me to trust you, Aragorn. You see what happened to me the last time I dared trust you." The flat voice that the elf spoke in made the words even more painful to the man.  
  
"And what would I have to do to earn back your trust, beautiful one?" the king asked, his whisper barely audible to elven ears.  
  
"Free me." The flatness of the tone did little to obscure the sound of vain hope in the musical voice. "Let me leave this place as I was when I arrived."  
  
"No, I cannot do that", the king replied. "You are too valuable to me and to my people now to just let walk away." He paused. "Surely there is something else."  
  
Legolas closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and quietly answered. "Send away your mage. Send him from your court, and never allow him back."  
  
"No." There was a sigh. "Try again. Ask for something that I can give you, this time."  
  
"Then let me go outside and ride. I do not do well in buildings and cities, and need the touch and feel of green growing things around me. I will surely sicken and die if you do not let me do this. It has been so long since I've seen the sky."  
  
There was a pause as Aragorn considered this. "I will not allow you near a horse. I know all too well how you are with animals. It would be too easy for you to convince one to bear you away." He was silent again for a moment. "But I can allow you the queen's gardens. They are small, but private. And secure. I can allow this to you, IF you behave."  
  
Head bowed, Legolas watched the fire from beneath his eyelashes. Perhaps tonight would be a night to get concessions and guilt seemed to work well enough with the creature when he was in one of his more generous moods. "What have I been doing, if not behaving? I do not fight you anymore. I let you lay your hands upon me and do with me as you see fit."  
  
"You let me do with you as I see fit because you know that you are not strong enough to fight me off. I give you no choices in that matter." The man paused. "But as you say, you have been most well mannered. This only causes me to wonder all the more about what mischief you're concocting behind those pretty eyes."  
  
Legolas closed those same eyes and suppressed the urge to lunge for the poker. "Oh, yes. I'm certainly able to wreak havoc whilst locked up in two small rooms, and no way out. Fear me." The last was spoken with such sarcasm that the man snorted his amusement again.  
  
"Davyn says that you will lose most of your rebelliousness when you are pregnant." The arms squeezed incrementally tighter around the waist. "I hope you do not. I like the challenge."  
  
"And what else does Davyn say?" Aragorn did not catch the sudden stillness of the body he held, or the silky tone of the words.  
  
"He says many things, many of which I must confess to not understanding." The man shook his head slowly, and then continued, "He speaks of the future, but in a strange way, almost as if it is his to arrange what will be."  
  
::In his mind, I'm sure that is what he feels. He is making his future right now, building it on our bodies.:: thought Legolas to himself. He was unable to speak the words, and because of this, knew that it was true. He took a breath and decided to test the bonds on his tongue. "Where does he come from? I have never heard or seen of such as he."  
  
Aragorn shifted slightly. "He does not like to tell of his life before he came to us. He says that it is too painful to speak of. I do know that he comes from the East, from the lands where Sauron's shadow had fallen, and that most of his people were killed in the war. He never speaks of a family."  
  
::From the East…. There are many places and peoples to the East, beyond Mordor, that I have heard of only in legend, and many more, I am sure, that I have never heard of at all.:: "Did he tell you how he learned his…" The word "magic" died in his throat. "…craft?"  
  
A hand had busied itself caressing a shoulder, making it bare from the covering of long hair and cloth. There was a pause, as if in thought. "He told Gilby once that his craft was one that only his people knew and that when he died it would be lost." The hand started its quest again, and the king continued. "I've been in his workshop. He has some of the most confusing and confounding things I've ever seen. Trinkets and toys, mostly, but also things of great power. His books are in some arcane language, and he has other things that he brought with him from his home. But enough of such things."  
  
The hand reached beneath the cloth and rough calluses rubbed against sensitive skin. The creature leaned in and whispered quietly into a pointed ear. "I know that hate my touch. I can feel it in the way you stiffen and pull away from me."  
  
Legolas stared into the fire, the dying flames receding into sullen coals. "Your touch is unnatural. I am not female, even if the body you have forced me into is. Everything that you do to me is foreign and aberrant, and I do not take pleasure in it."  
  
"Perhaps if you accepted what you are now, things would go better for you." The voice was smooth in its cruelty. "But you will not, I know. It falls to me to show you your place."  
  
The hand crept up to caress a pale throat and then to push the head back onto the man's broad shoulder. The elf hissed in pain at the proximity of the torc. He could still feel the chill of it even though the layers of Aragorn's clothing. The king smiled icily at this response and then he lowered his other hand to the juncture of the pale thighs. With a delicate touch he explored what he found there, and then whispered again. "I feel nothing of a man here."  
  
With another twitch of his fingers he found a sensitive area that made Legolas try to squirm away with a wordless gasp. The king tightened his grip and continued his manipulation. "Enjoy what I give you, Legolas. Your body doesn't know that you hate my touch."  
  
"No. This is not right." The elf gasped for air as the fingers delved deeper. The sensation was completely unlike anything he had ever felt before. Where before one could say the feeling would be restrained to just one area, this was more widespread, more powerful in its intensity. And therefore much more frightening. He writhed against the hands that held him, and then suddenly tensed up, fighting the wave of pleasurable tightness that took hold of his muscles and held him there, suspended for a long moment before releasing him.  
  
He gasped for breath, and found Aragorn's hot mouth over his own, and then down onto his neck. "You see, you are a woman. Nothing more." The voice was even crueler for its gentle tone, as a hand pushed his now limp body to lie on the floor and a heavy body moved to roll on top of him.  
  
::No. I must put a stop to this, and I must do it soon before I lose what I have left of my self:: Legolas' thoughts became more unclear as sensation reared up and took him again. 


	7. Chapter 7

Insert standard disclaimer. I don't own any of the people portrayed here. I don't own Middle earth. I do own my original characters, and they amuse me to no end…. Sometimes too much, actually.  
  
Notes: No. I am not a Psych major, or involved in that industry at all. I am just a sick individual. That's all. ::snickers::  
  
Ayod: Well, he means business. You'll see. He gets the first blow in here.  
  
Nuniel: Yes, they were friends, but they weren't "Friends" in a wink wink nudge nudge say no more gov'ner way, if that's what you mean. Of course, how hard would it be for you to restrain yourself from beating a "friend" who was basically raping you every night?  
  
Nancing Elf: Thank you! I really appreciate your comments. I hope I can keep it up for you and make you happy. (Boy, that sounded bad, didn't it?)  
  
Treehugger: I'm glad that Jasta and I have this going too. I am so totally blown away by her skill and talent. I want to be her when I grow up. Until then, I'll just have to keep plugging away at this….  
  
Jastaelf… ::slaps down cards:: I'll see your Chapter 7 and raise you one. Please feel free to blow me away with Chapter 8 of "Dark Leaf". (If you haven't read her stuff, go now!!!!)  
  
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Morning dawned, clear and while not warm, not as cold as it had been. Spring was not yet here, but there was a slight promise of her coming in the air. Legolas felt the creature stir next to him, throwing an arm around his waist and drawing him closer. He closed his eyes and steeled himself for the creature's affections, not wanting to think about what had come to pass the night before.  
  
However today, at least for the creature, was not a day to be wasted on such things. With a quick nuzzle to the back of the neck and the daily pat on the head, the creature rolled out of the bed and strode heavily into his chambers, yelling for his riding leathers. Legolas could hear the footsteps of his menservants, running to obey his every command. Anyone who lingered would feel the wrath of the king, and possibly the back of his hand. He had garnered a reputation in the past months of mercurial moods as well as swift and cruel punishments.  
  
Legolas waited silently for the chaos next door to cease. There was much talk and laughter, so he doubted that they could hear anything he did, but he wanted no attention drawn to him at all this day. It would suit him well if they all forgot he existed.  
  
When it was at last quiet, he climbed out of the bed and slowly walked to the mirror. His eyes fell the base and then slowly to the legs of the woman there. His eyes traveled up to where his hand touched hers, and then he wrenched his gaze from the scene in front of him and to the door. "I'm sorry", he said to her, not wanting to hurt her more than she had already been, "but I cannot look at you. I am afraid I will only see myself, and I think that would finish me."  
  
He glided swiftly to the door to the sitting room, not looking back to the woman that he knew watched him with a sad countenance. With a soft rap on the door, he summoned a maid.  
  
The door flew open and Clotild bustled in, carrying fresh clothing.  
  
He grabbed the maid's shoulders as she tried to push past and made her meet his eyes. "Clotild. I need your help. There is something I must do. Urgently."  
  
Clotild froze, and looked back over her shoulder. With the heel of her foot she deftly reached behind her and closed the door to the sitting room so that they were alone. "What would you have of me, Lady?" He had never noticed how lovely she was before, with her curling hair and eyes that snapped with sharp intelligence.  
  
"I need to get into Davyn's workshop. I…" His tongue froze and his expression became pained. With a deep breath, he tried again. "I cannot tell you why, but I must get in there. There is something I must do."  
  
The maid met his eyes and held them, not queen to servant, but soul to soul, searching for something. After a long moment Clotild spoke in the barest whisper. "I know that you are not happy here. I see it in your eyes. But if I help you escape, my life is forfeit."  
  
Legolas whispered back, hearing activity behind the closed door. They had only a few moments of privacy left. "I promise you, the only thing I am trying to escape is this." He fingered the collar around his neck as he spoke. "I will not betray you. But I must do this."  
  
Clotild searched his eyes again as she pondered, and then turned back to the door, taking the clothing with her. He could hear her speak sharply to the lesser servants. "The queen is indisposed, and will be returning to bed to rest. She has no need of any of you. Leave us." There was a confused chattering, and then slowly silence.  
  
He held tight to the back of the chair and waited, and when the door opened again to admit Clotild and Lanelese, their faces were serious and grim. Clotild held in her hand a dress of rough homespun, and Lanelese a hooded cloak. His knees went weak in relief as he realized that they would help him.  
  
Lanelese quietly walked behind Legolas, and gently brushed and braided his hair into a long plait down his back. She spoke quietly as she did this, her voice subdued. "They are down in the main courtyard now, preparing to go forth to ride. I will go now and find out, if I can, how long they will be gone, and if Davyn is with them." She paused while she bound the end of the plait with a scrap of leather. "I'm sure he is. He never stays behind." With this, the small blonde woman ran to the door, looked carefully around it before she opened it fully, and then disappeared.  
  
Clotilde helped him put the rough dress on, and laced it firmly. It was ill fitting, but most servants' garb was.  
  
"Do you know where Davyn's room is?" Legolas asked her quietly.  
  
Clotild looked nervous, but nodded. "He has rooms and a workshop in the next wing. There is only one guard in between here and there, and I think we can get by him easily enough."  
  
Lanelese ran into the room, her pale skin flushed from running. "They have gone. I watched them all mount their horses and ride towards the gates. There is every indication they will be gone for hours. The day is pleasant and bright, and they took food with them. The mage is with them."  
  
Things were going very well. "Is Valda still with Arnlaug?" Legolas asked.  
  
Clotild nodded, grief evident in the way her head moved. "Yes. He is failing, and she has yet to leave his side. Few knew that they had such affection for each other. They hid it so well."  
  
Legolas shook his head. "He is a good man, and they both deserve to be happy with each other."  
  
The maids simply nodded, their tension visible in the way they held their bodies.  
  
Clotild held out the cloak and wrapped Legolas in it, pulling the hood over the blonde hair. "We shall try to simply walk past the guard, My Lady. He often sees Lanelese and myself walking together, so perhaps he will think that you are just another servant out with me." She adjusted plain and unremarkable dress, and then the cloak. "Are you sure you want to do this?"  
  
"Yes. I must. I cannot tell you why, but I must."  
  
Clotild nodded. "Lanelese will stay here and guard your chambers. If anyone comes, she will tell them you are sleeping and send them away."  
  
The blonde maid nodded vigorously. "I will wait here for you, My Lady. Good luck for whatever it is you do."  
  
Legolas touched palms with the little maid. "Thank you", he said. And then he and Clotild slipped from the main door into the hallway.  
  
It had been weeks since he had been allowed outside of his rooms, and the hallway loomed large before them. Clotild grabbed his hand and started walking briskly. "Keep your head down. Do not look around or make eye contact with anyone we might meet. Remember, you are a servant on an important errand."  
  
Legolas said nothing, but kept his eyes on the floor as they swiftly approached the guard.  
  
"Hello, Clotild", a male voice suddenly rang out. "Where's your pretty little friend? And who's this?"  
  
The maid slowed, but kept walking. "We're on an important errand, Bryn, what with the chancellor being so ill and the Countess staying with him. Lanelese is still tending the queen, and this is Kristiana. We can't stop right now, but I promise I'll send Lanelese out here to keep you company for a few minutes when I return."  
  
The smile in the guard's voice was unmistakable. "You do that. I so miss her company."  
  
With a quick wave, Clotild began walking briskly again, nearly dragging Legolas with her. "She seems to have a beau in every hallway lately", the maid said quietly as an aside. "I suspect she gives them nothing but smiles and sweet words, yet they still flock to her."  
  
Their steps led down a small staircase, and then into another hall. They moved down to the end of the hallway and stopped before a solid oak door with a large iron lock. Clotild looked carefully to the left, and then to the right, and pulled a pick from her bodice. With practiced skill, she began to manipulate the tumblers in the lock, humming quietly to herself as she did so. Legolas made a mental note to ask her where she had learned to do such a thing.  
  
With an audible "clink" the lock was defeated and she slowly opened the door, hinges sofly creaking. "My Lady", whispered Clotild, "this is where I leave you. They cannot punish you if they find you here. Me…." She left the sentence unfinished and Legolas nodded.  
  
"I understand. Go, and thank you." He touched palms with her briefly, and then watched as the maid made a gesture of luck and then silently padded back down the hall. Legolas took a deep breath and ducked into the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the gloom before he found himself in a sitting room much like his own. A quick inspection of the room showed nothing untoward in its furnishings. The next door revealed a bedchamber, plainly decorated.  
  
Partially hidden behind a tapestry, there was another doorway, this one of heavy oak. He tugged on the handle a few times, but the door was locked. Eyes shut in thought, he wished that he had told Clotild to wait in the hallway. Surely she could have picked this lock as well.  
  
He opened his eyes and looked around the room, deep in thought. ::He thinks that he has defeated us all, and that he is so much smarter than the rest of us. If he had a key to this room here, he would hide it in plain sight, all the better to spite us::  
  
His gaze rested upon tapestry next to the door. ::The key would be hidden in plain sight:: With a shaking hand he felt the edge of the tapestry, feeling the folded back edge of the fabric, and the small area between the woven scene and the backing. He felt down the edge, all the way to the floor, before his hand finally encountered something solid and unyielding. ::There we are.::  
  
He drew the key out of a gap in the seams and placed it into the lock. It turned slowly, ponderously, yet it still turned, until the lock slipped free with a soft click. With a soft push, the door swung opened silently on well-oiled hinges.  
  
The room was circular, and large with high ceilings. This was obviously one of the towers and had been converted for just this usage. Opaque glass filled the high windows, giving privacy, but still allowing the light to filter down into the workshop.  
  
The walls were lined with workbenches, strewn with pieces of metal and stone, and other things. Bookshelves were on the far wall, and in the fireplace there was a small forge, such as jewelers would use. There were other tools for the working of metal and stone hung neatly upon the wall as well.  
  
Above his head hung a contraption of gold wire and crystals. It swung and dipped in the air currents of the room, and seemed to be almost an artwork. But there was something strange about it. Standing on tiptoe, Legolas put out a cautious hand to touch one of the crystals as it slowly danced by.  
  
Pain. Fear. Agony. Confusion. The elf's eyes widened as he jerked his hand back as though it had been burned. The impressions were sharp and clear in his mind.  
  
Forehead drawn up in confusion, he touched another crystal, this time with a more delicate contact. Fire. Fear. Pain. Fear. Loss. Fear. A child crying.  
  
He drew back from the thing and studied it. ::This means something. This is a clue to the riddle. But what is it?::  
  
He drew off the cloak and hood and laid it across the end of the workbench. Walking softly, his steps took him to the center of the room where a large round table stood. A high stool was tucked up underneath it.  
  
In the center of the table was an apparatus that drew his attention. A beautifully worked likeness of a man lay on its back, head and feet resting on two small supports that hung from the ceiling, the middle part of its body hanging over the opening between them. Under the doll rested a bowl of a foul black liquid.  
  
Legolas moved closer, and realized whom the manikin represented. The stocky build and strong muscles of the body that were so finely wrought in gold were set off by hair and features done in silver. "Arnlaug." The name fell from his lips, and the sound of his voice in the silence caused him to start.  
  
Over the doll had been draped what appeared to be long threads of silk with heavy stones attached on either end. Each stone bore a glyph in some strange language. There were so many stones with such weight hanging from the small likeness of the chancellor that the soft metal had bent and the doll teetered upon the edges of its supports. It was as if it was hanging on with a tenacity that was mirrored by the one whom it represented.  
  
A few more stones lay on the table, obviously waiting to be piled onto the waiting doll and send it plummeting into the basin. ::Trinkets and toys, indeed. I would fear the children who would play with such as this::  
  
He reached out a tentative hand, and then drew back. ::I may cause more harm than good by touching this::  
  
The worktable was covered with other items as well. There was intricately wrought jewelry, daggers, and other things that he knew not what they were, but one thing in particular caught his eye. It was a golden collar, exactly the same as the one he wore on his own neck, but much smaller. ::It is as if it is for a child:: He fingered the collar around his own neck unconsciously as his blood turned to ice. ::If I had no reason before, this would give me all the reason I need to kill him in cold blood. I will never let him have any child to control, much less one of my body. I would rather my child raised by orcs than under the influence of this monster::  
  
The elf stood there for a moment longer, and then turned and moved to the bookshelf. Scanning the spines, he was shocked to see some tomes that appeared to be written in Quenya, some in Westron, and several in some unknown script. He allowed his finger to touch each book as he tried to read the titles.  
  
The Elvish books would not hold what he needed. It was not in his people's nature to make such dark magics, nor to do them with such materials as metal and stone. The Westron gave him pause, but he continued on. ::The only ones I think who would know of such arts would be the Dwarves, but they do not embrace the dark magics either.:: He paused for a moment, hand still on the tome when he was saddened. ::I wish Gimli were here. He could help me ferret out this secret, and his presence would make this easier to bear.::  
  
With a sad shake of his head, the elf returned to his search. The next several books were in some arcane language, and unreadable. He had almost turned away when his eyes were drawn to a small book, half hidden behind the others.  
  
It was no bigger than his spread out hand, and bound in leather that was more the color of dried blood than anything else. But the most disturbing thing was that it was cold to the touch. The evil and malice that dwelt in the torc that rested around Aragorn's neck was similar in feel to this book.  
  
Legolas wrapped his hands with the rough fabric of his skirt and using nothing but his fingertips, took the book from the shelf. He carried it quickly to the worktable in the middle of the room, tossed it down and regarded it as he would a poisonous snake.  
  
His eyes looked again to the doll suspended above his unhappy fate, and then to the small golden collar, and then back to the book. Wrapping his hand again in the skirt, he looked around the table and picked up a small dagger that was lying there. He used the point of the dagger to gingerly open the cover of the book, but still winced when the cold traveled up the metal of the dagger and through the material, into his bones.  
  
The writing within was a strange, painful language, and Legolas had seen it before. "The Black Speech." The sound of his voice echoed in the empty room, and made him start despite himself.  
  
After a quick look around to the room to confirm he was alone, he turned his attention back to the book in front of him. While he could not read most of the script therein, he did determine that it bore a shocking similarity to Elvish. A word or two could be discerned, but not enough to make any sense. Using the tip of the dagger, he turned the pages and studied the pictures that were there. One was chillingly familiar, showing much the same scene as the small doll in front of him.  
  
He used the dagger to trace out the words on the picture and then turned his eyes back to the stones that weighed the small metal body down. ::Age and sickness. That is what the glyphs spell out. Age and sickness will bear him down into his death, and look completely natural:: He lifted his hand to the dangling stones, but stopped. ::Anything I do may change the balance and cause him to plummet into the darkness, but I can think of no other way to save him:: He looked back into the book, but there were no answers forthcoming.  
  
He turned another page, and then another, trying to find anything of value, but he was unable to make any sense of the vast majority of it.  
  
It was as he was so engrossed in his search for answers that he did not hear the soft step of another in the outer rooms, or the sound of the door softly opening into the room.  
  
"Did no one ever teach you that you should not touch what does not belong to you?"  
  
Legolas looked up in shock, and saw Davyn standing in the doorway. He then checked the position of the sunlight that shone through the windows. It had not even been an hour since he had left. "You are back early, My Lord Mage", he said quietly.  
  
"Indeed. It seems that I have come in just in time. Perhaps my horse should throw a shoe more often." The mage walked to stand at the table next to Legolas. With a quick movement he snatched up the book, closed it firmly and then walked to the bookshelf.  
  
"You are from Mordor." The words escaped the elf's lips unbidden and hung in the air between the two of them, a statement of fact and an accusation.  
  
The mage placed the book back into its original place and then turned to face Legolas. His brown eyes were cold. "No. If you must know, I'm from farther east, but my people served Mordor."  
  
"You told Aragorn that your people were killed in the war." Legolas stood straight and met the cold eyes.  
  
The mage walked back to the table and stood next to the elf. "My people WERE killed in the war. I just never said which side killed them." Davyn ran his finger under a single thread of silk and lifted a pair of stones from the tabletop.  
  
With a swift motion, Legolas snatched the stones from the finger and hurled them across the room.  
  
The mage laughed silently, but his eyes did not smile. "Why are you here? Did you think you could come upon me unawares and kill me? Or were you looking for some way to defeat me?"  
  
"Perhaps." Legolas watched the mage closely.  
  
"Then you are a fool. Even if you could find something, what could you do? You cannot act against me, nor can you tell anyone. Of all those I count as dangerous to my plans, you are nothing. You are less than nothing, actually." The mage barked a laugh and leaned against the table, crossing his arms in front of him. "In fact, if I were looking for a confidant, you would be the perfect choice. You would never be able to tell anyone what I was planning." He chuckled at his own great humor.  
  
The elf remained still and silent, waiting. Perhaps Davyn would let something slip as he gloated.  
  
The mage continued after a moment "I have you bound so tightly that you could never do anything to me. You know this, you feel it." He looked closely at the elf, and then smirked even more. "And now this body has imprisoned you even more than I."  
  
"I know not of what you speak." Legolas felt the words leave his mouth, and fall flat in the air.  
  
"I thought elves were the type to look into themselves and see clearly what lay there. Perhaps you do not do so because you do not wish to see the truth." Davyn looked positively feral now. "The king tells me everything about you. How your skin feels, how your mouth tastes, how your hair smells. I'm rather sick of it. But when he told me about last night, I was amused."  
  
Legolas felt his eyes narrow and his grip tighten on the dagger that had been forgotten in his grasp. "I'm glad my distress amuses you."  
  
"Distress?" The mage leaned in closer. "I doubt it was distress that made you react the way you did. Did you not enjoy putting those scratches into his back? Was it distress that made you cry out his name or wrap your legs around him?"  
  
He smiled even wider when Legolas closed his eyes in shame, and continued. "And the most wonderful thing about it all is that as much as you hate enjoying what he does to you, he hates enjoying doing it to you. His innermost self cringes every time his body touches you. His soul is tormented by what he does, but he cannot stop it." The mage leaned back again. "And that is my perfect revenge. To turn him into something so perverted and twisted that he cannot bear himself. To hear his soul weep in pain as he realizes what I have made him become. For him to realize that I will do the same to his children, and live off of them for many years after he dies."  
  
"You hate with such vigor, Davyn. Why?" Legolas whispered the words through his own shock.  
  
"I have nothing left but hate, little elf. It consumes my days." He paused and then continued. "I need you in order to stay alive, I did not lie about that, but the fire of my hatred would keep me going for quite a while without you, I think."  
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes and spoke in a voice that would have frozen anyone else with fear. "I will stop you and I will kill you. Your blood will fall on bare stone and be wasted. In your death, nothing will find life, and your essence will cease to be."  
  
Davyn threw his head back and laughed. The sound rang off the stone walls, causing echoes to rain back down upon them. "You can try. In fact, you can try now with that dagger you have in your hand." The mage pulled open his robe to expose his chest. Legolas was surprised to see that the tattoos that covered Davyn's arms appeared to crawl upon his torso as well. "Come now, little one. That dagger in your hand I made myself, and the edge is as keen as any elven blade. Hurt me, little one. Kill me. Make me feel pain, if you can."  
  
His hands wavering, Legolas raised the dagger and stared at the chest in front of him. He could see the pulse in the mage's neck, the soft area between the ribs where he could slip his blade and stop a beating heart. But he already knew he would be unable to do anything to the mage who stood before him and laughed.  
  
With a swift motion, Legolas then turned and slashed the blade across the worktable, across the silk threads on the heavy stones that drained the life from the Chancellor of Gondor. The blade was indeed as keen as an elven blade, and the threads gave no resistance, but parted neatly and without effort causing the stones to fall into the basin below. The little man swayed for a second, but remained on his platforms, and seemed to straighten in front of Legolas' eyes.  
  
The mage let out a roar of anger, and Legolas turned to see the young face with the curly brown hair and large brown eyes so transformed with rage that it was unrecognizable. The eyes blazed red, and the mouth was drawn up into a snarl of anger. The skin was no longer youthful or smooth, but wrinkled and grey with age.  
  
He was so distracted by the sudden change in the Davyn's appearance that he did not see the hand that swung around until it hit him with such force as to knock him to the floor.  
  
"Do you", raged the mage as he bent over the elf, "know how much of my energy I put into that spell?"  
  
Legolas licked a trickle of blood from his lip. "I have an idea."  
  
The mage straddled the elf, and raised his hand to the blue stone on the pale neck, and then paused. The face had returned almost to its previous state. "I will enjoy killing you, you know. When I kill him, I will kill you as well. I will take all your life, all your magic, all your essence at once, and leave you there limp and dead beside him, and then I will tell everyone that you died of grief. He will die knowing he was a monster, and you will die knowing that you were unable to help him." The smile the mage gave was almost sweet. "I look forward to it." And then he touched the stone.  
  
  
  
Blue. The world was blue again, and he was himself again. It was almost a foreign sensation to look down and see his male body after all this time, but it was a relief as well. ::I am still here:: he thought.  
  
His breath came in ragged pants as he braced himself for what was to come, and then he noticed it. There within him was a spark. It appeared to be almost a faint star, glowing with an energy that belied its smallness.  
  
Instinctively, he grasped it and pulled it deep inside, giving protection against the wind that swirled around him and sent icy fingers into his heart, and pulled the life away from him.. It had taken him days to recover from the last time this happened, but he had no intention of allowing the innocent inside to come to harm.  
  
He pushed it even deeper inside as his limbs went numb and he fell to the blue sands, and then curled himself around it, shielding it.  
  
He was aware of Davyn leaning backwards, a grim smile on his once again youthful face. For once the smile extended to the eyes. Then the world went black.  
  
He was unaware when the mage carefully picked him up and carried him from the workshop, through the empty halls and back to the Queen's chambers.  
  
Nor was he aware when Lanelese opened the door to his chambers and saw the mage holding the limp elf. Her blue eyes went large and round, and she held her hand to her mouth and gasped.  
  
"I think you have lost something." Davyn smiled down at the small maid. "I would suggest you keep a tighter hold on the King's possessions lest you lose your own life in the process."  
  
Clotild ran up behind the blonde maid. "Is she alright? What happened?"  
  
The mage smiled grimly. "Nothing happened." He fixed the brunette with a steely gaze. "Nothing happened at all. Breeding women swoon all the time. Let her rest and she will be fine."  
  
He walked across the room and placed the limp body into one of the chairs. "The child simply drains her. She'll be fine in a few days."  
  
The maids looked at each other in confusion as he left the room, chuckling to himself all the while. 


	8. Chapter 8

Standard disclaimer: I do not own anyone here, except my original characters, who if I do say so myself, kick total ass. Seriously. I may just have to ditch Leggy and Aragorn and go take my original characters on the road. Hmm…..  
  
Notes:  
  
The art of writing fanfic, especially in episodes like this, and publishing each one before the entire body of work is published is an imperfect science, really. After reading reviews, I went and reread the body of work that was already up there and realized that yes, I really did ignore Aragorn and not really do much in the way of characterization. So I could either go backwards and revise what I've already written, (which when people do that to me on multi part stories just annoys me to no end because then I have to reread and look for the differences) or I could write a new chapter to address just those concerns. So here it is. I tried to flesh out Aragorn and show him as the conflicted controlled creature that he is in my mind. I think I did a better job with the horse, sadly.  
  
So this part of the story is probably slow, but it is needed to further address the characters and to explain some of what will be happening in the next chapter. I figured out the ending to this one, I just have to get it there. ::rubs hands together evilly:: You guys are gonna plotz, I swear.  
  
The tribute in this chapter is to the ever lovely and talented Treehugger. Go read her stories of Egla Ash/ Elu Heneb. And yes, the comment in last chapter was aimed at "Dark Leaf" by Jastaelf. If you haven't figured it out yet, we're all in cahoots with each other in one way or another.  
  
::returns serve to Jastaelf:: Go for it, babe. Blow me away, as you always do.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The stables were warm and comfortable and Aragorn intended to stay there as long as he could. It was a pleasant day out, and his ride had been enjoyable, but all good things ended too soon, he supposed. He could almost feel himself while alone among the horses.  
  
The smell of the horses was earthy and pungent, but still comforting. He had dismissed the stable boy, choosing to groom his stallion with his own hands. The work was hard to muscles that were no longer accustomed to such things, but he welcomed the exertion for the clarity of mind that it brought.  
  
After he had finished with his own mount, he walked over to the stall where Davyn's mount resided. The gelding was a good horse, and it would be a shame if he were lamed from today's incident. He did not like putting down good horses. He smiled slightly to himself, thinking of the overheard whispers in the halls of his palace. It was probably true that he did treat the horses better than his own people, he thought upon reflection. Horses seemed much more deserving of good treatment to his mind.  
  
It was in the next stall that Aragorn saw Arod. The horse noticed the king at the same time the king noticed the horse, and they regarded each other solemnly across the stall. The horse moved forward, seemingly recognizing the man, and hung his head over the door and whickered quietly. Equine nostrils flared as the horse caught the scent that clung to the man's skin. Ears went back and eyes focused expectantly on the man, as if waiting for him to produce the person to whom that scent belonged.  
  
Despite himself, Aragorn was drawn to the horse. He searched in his pocket and found a forgotten piece of sugar that he had neglected to give to his own mount. He offered it on the flat of his palm. Arod seemed to be disconcerted, the ears going even flatter. Obviously, this was not what he had expected Aragorn to produce. It was with some amount of obvious disdain that the horse finally lipped up the sugar, perhaps thinking that if he would accept this, the next item to be produced would be his elf. But that was not to be.  
  
Aragorn patted the horse on the neck, and then realized that Arod was looking at him in an almost humanly expectant way. "You have lived among the elves for far too long, my friend", he muttered under his breath. "You seem almost as odd."  
  
The horse snorted in response and then turned to look at the person that approached.  
  
Aragorn turned to watch his mage approach and squelched his sigh of misery. It appeared that his pleasant time alone was about to come to an end. Leaning against the stall door and crossing his arms, he raised an eyebrow and spoke. "What brings you here, Davyn? I thought that the stable was not your favored place to be?"  
  
The mage bowed deeply and then rose. "My liege. I have come to spend some time with you. After all, I missed you for the rest of the ride today." The mage turned and looked at Arod. "This is a fine looking horse. Perhaps I should take this one while my own heals from his misfortune today."  
  
Arod looked less than pleased with that suggestion, Aragorn noted. The equine eyes narrowed in a look that could almost be cataloged as pure dislike. The king shook his head at that thought. Horses did not have those kinds of emotions.  
  
The mage moved closer to the horse and reached out a hand to touch Arod's neck. The horse responded with a vicious snap of his teeth that would have taken a finger off, if the mage had not moved back so quickly. Deep inside, Aragorn felt a slight twinge of disappointment. "I fear that he does not much like you, Davyn. I was just remarking to myself that he has been too long among the elves. This is Legolas' mount."  
  
The mage raised an eyebrow at that revelation, and then smiled evilly. "Then I will take this one as my own. Your elf will not be in any condition for riding for quite a while, I think." He then turned and examined the horse more closely. "And as you have so sufficiently proved, even those things elven can be broken to accept what they would think otherwise unacceptable."  
  
Aragorn's face reflected his inner struggle at those words. Part of him wanted to smile victoriously at the memory of the lithe body he had forced to accept his will, and even respond to him against it's own will. Part of him felt deep shame at the same memory. The two impulses warred behind his eyes, and made them appear tormented.  
  
Davyn looked from the horse and up to the man who stood next to him, and frowned. He had not sensed this kind of open struggle from Aragorn in months, not since he had driven Arwen away. "I feel the need to remind you that it was your choice to have the elf, My Lord." The voice was almost oily in its smoothness. "I remain your loyal servant, and do nothing but your bidding."  
  
Aragorn snapped his head up and glared at the mage. "I know well enough that it was my choice, Davyn." He then looked down at his hands and sighed. "When I made the choice, it seemed like the right thing."  
  
Davyn raised an eyebrow, and then twitched his lips into a grim smile. "Choices are not easy, My Liege. The hardest choices are often the right ones. The ones that cause the most pain are usually the ones that do the most good."  
  
"Yes, yes. I know. And sometimes a few have to suffer for the good of all." Aragorn spat the words bitterly.  
  
Davyn spoke again, his voice like steel wrapped in slippery silk. "You made the choices, My Lord. From the very beginning, I offered you a choice each time. You chose to accept my advice. You chose to accept my fealty. You chose to accept my torc. You chose to support me over your wife. Each decision was yours to make freely, even this one."  
  
Aragorn drew himself up and glared at the mage with a combination of anger and arrogance. "Yes, they were all my decisions. Each one, and each one made for the greater good of my people, for the good of Gondor."  
  
Davyn smiled. It was so easy to corrupt the self righteous, and still have them think that they were noble in their corruption. "Yes, for the good of Gondor." He turned back to the horse and studied it. Arod laid his ears even further back and bared his teeth in a promise of severed digits.  
  
Aragorn continued, speaking as though to convince himself. "An elven queen gives Gondor great distinction and strengthens my bloodline. The children will be long lived and will provide great stability to the region with the length of their reigns."  
  
Davyn nodded. "Yes. The good you did for your people far outweighs the evil you did to your friend." He hid his smile at Aragorn's wince of pain. He reached over and touched the royal elbow and exerted his will. "I do not like it when you doubt yourself, My Lord. You are a king, and your word is law. You can do no wrong." He nodded with approval when he saw the grey eyes harden as the personality of the King submerged again.  
  
Satisfied that he had regained control, Davyn continued. "I almost forgot the main reason I came to you, My Lord. I bring you good tidings." He bowed and continued at Aragorn's nod. "I had an … encounter with your queen, and in the process determined that she is with child."  
  
The expressions that crossed the King's face were exquisite in their intensity and pain, thought Davyn. Elation was swallowed by simple horror and guilt. The feeling of the soul suffering beneath the shell was satisfying to the highest degree. He decided to twist the knife. "You have assured your child will be of the purest bloodline. Arwen's lineage was not nearly as pure as the Prince's. She bore human blood in her heritage, whereas Legolas bears no taint at all. You made an excellent choice, if I say so myself." He turned back to the horse with a speculative glance. In doing so, he missed the fleeting look filled with loathing that Aragorn gave him before it was submerged into the persona that was the King of Gondor.  
  
"I will go now and see how she is feeling." Aragorn moved to walk away, before Davyn caught the royal arm, exerting his control on even deeper levels.  
  
"She is sleeping right now, and I fear will not be responsive for a few hours. I had to… pacify her."  
  
Aragorn's fingers twitched, perhaps responding to the deeply buried wish to bury them around the mage's neck. The turmoil that he felt was overwhelming, and Davyn sensed this.  
  
"It is a good thing that this has happened now, My Lord. I have missed our time together, our talks. I feel as though you have started to slip away from me. Now that your duty is done you will no longer have to bother with your queen." His voice was confident as he thought for a moment, and then rejected, that he was in danger of losing his control of the king. "All we have to do now is wait."  
  
Aragorn's lip curled into a sneer and he fixed Davyn with an icy gaze. "But there you are wrong, Davyn. It is my CHOICE to spend time with Legolas. I CHOOSE to continue seeing her. And I CHOOSE this of my own free will. And for once, it is a choice that I feel I have rightly made." He smiled cruelly. "How else would I be able to break down the walls that she has built and make her accept what she has become? By the time that I have finished, there will be nothing in that body but a woman. Already she begins to act and think more and more like one with the passing days."  
  
Davyn's response was cut off by the arrival of a page. The young boy panted as he bowed to the king. "Majesty, your presence is requested in the Chancellor's rooms." The boy looked up and smiled. "It's a miracle! They say he will recover from his illness!"  
  
The king shot his mage a look, and then turned on his heel and left the stables. Davyn looked back at the horse. "I will be back for you", he promised Arod with an upraised finger. The horse snorted and lunged forward, teeth meeting air where there had been a hand but seconds before. His whinny of challenge mocked the mage as he followed his king.  
  
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The light from the window hurt the back of Legolas' eyelids. It was the first time that specific part of his body had ever hurt, at least as far as he could remember. Opening his eyes only made the sensation change from pain to severe nausea. He closed his eyes again, choosing to hurt instead of vomit.  
  
Rolling on his side, away from the light, seemed to help a little, but the movement made his stomach rebel even more. He froze, hoping that with the cessation of movement his stomach would return to his control, but it was not be. He tried to pull himself to the end of the bed so that he could be sick into the chamber pot, but knew that it was a hopeless quest.  
  
It was with great relief that he felt someone hold a basin under his head and pull back his hair while he was explosively ill. A cool rag soon followed on his face and neck, and Valda murmured quietly into his ear, "I know not what you did, but I see what it has cost you. You have my eternal gratitude."  
  
Eyes still closed, Legolas asked quietly, "Arnlaug?"  
  
Valda's voice was painful in its joy. "He is recovering. The physicians say that he will be as he was before, if not better. Thank you."  
  
It took all his strength to whisper "Good" before the room went dark and he fell back down into sleep.  
  
It was morning when he woke again, and found himself wrapped in the creature's arms. He unconsciously stiffened and tried to move away but was held against the warm chest behind him. After a few moments he turned to look at the man that held him so tightly and was surprised to see the gray eyes regarding him with a light that he had not seen since he had arrived in Minas Tirith.  
  
"You should be more careful, little one. You now have more than yourself to think of, and I don't know how well I can protect you from him… or myself." There was a small pause. "I am sorry." The voice was quiet, barely more than an exhalation of air past his lips. One of the large hands drifted to lie over the elf's flat stomach and rub gently.  
  
Legolas felt his eyes grow wide and he stuttered in shock. "H- how?"  
  
Aragorn smiled slightly. "Sometimes when he sleeps too deeply I feel his grip loosen. It is never for long, but sometimes it is enough for a moment or two."  
  
"How do I break this spell on you? How do I win your freedom?" The words came out in a rush. The eyes were already clouding, but regained their focus for a moment.  
  
"Everything is a choice, Legolas. Everything. If I choose to be free of him, I can be. But I must be given proper thing to choose over him."  
  
"But what is that?" He knew, however, that the question fell on deaf ears, for the eyes had gone cold and hard, and the gentle look on the face had turned to a cruel and icy smile, and the grip on his body turned lustful and possessive.  
  
After the creature had left him that morning, Legolas rose and walked to the mirror and looked within.  
  
The woman with was tired, with dark circles under her haunted blue eyes. Her shoulders were slumped in seeming defeat.  
  
The touched fingers in the glass and he spoke to her. "Do not give up hope yet. We know more than we did before, and we have regained a powerful ally."  
  
She seemed to straighten in front of him, and smiled in response to his own tightly stretched smile. Then her face paled, and together they ran to the chamber pot to be noisily sick.  
  
It was to this scene that Valda walked in, carrying a tray with a teapot and a small plate of toasted crackers.  
  
She set the tray onto the table and then knelt by the retching elf, gently holding the long hair out of the way. When the spasms had finally settled, the Countess covered over the pot, and then helped Legolas to a seat, and poured a cup of the fragrant tea.  
  
"This is Vandal Root tea. It will help calm your stomach." She pressed the warm cup between the bloodless fingers, and Legolas nodded gratefully as he sipped.  
  
"How did you know?" He finally was able to ask after holding back another wave of nausea.  
  
Valda smiled gently. "Every pregnant woman in Gondor drinks Vandal Root tea. It is not only good for the mother; it is good for the child as well. In small amounts it settles the stomach, and encourages the appetite. In larger doses it helps you rest, and in a newly delivered mother it helps bring the milk in faster."  
  
"No, Valda. I am not…" His words stuck in his throat as he remembered his encounter with Davyn.  
  
"No, Legolas, you yourself are not a woman. But you are in the body of one, and the body is pregnant." She reached over and gently poked Legolas in the breast, causing him to hiss and recoil in pain. "Yes. The body is definitely pregnant." She handed him a cracker. "Eat."  
  
Legolas looked at the piece of food suspiciously, but then broke a small piece off of the corner and put it in his mouth, allowing it to melt slowly on his tongue before swallowing. As he repeated this process, Valda talked quietly. "Arnlaug will be on his feet before the end of the week, the physicians say. Whatever has affected him so has completely gone." She paused. "When he recovers, he has asked me to marry him. I have agreed to do so."  
  
"I am happy for you both. You deserve to be joyful with each other." Legolas smiled sincerely. "I hope that I will not lose you here, though. I have great need of you both."  
  
Valda nodded. "We will go nowhere. Our place is here."  
  
It was with some surprise that Legolas realized he was sleepy. He was still slightly nauseated as well, but the tea and crackers had helped somewhat. "I need to talk to Arnlaug and Gilby. And to anyone else that you think we may be able to have some influence with on the counsel, if they will listen to me. We have much to do."  
  
Valda snorted delicately. "Of course they will listen to you. You have just become the most important person in Gondor. You bear the heir." The woman's smile softened at the elf's headshake of denial. "But we will not arrange things today. Today you will rest, and when you are feeling better, we will go for a walk in the gardens."  
  
With gentle hands she took the cup from now loose fingers, and escorted the tired elf back to the bed. There was still time, and with Arnlaug restored to her, there was hope as well. 


	9. Chapter 9

Insert standard disclaimer here. I own nothing. I have nothing. If you sue me, you too shall have nothing.  
  
Notes: Jasta has informed me she shall be posting the latest chapter of Dark Leaf soon, but life, annoying as it is, has gotten in the way. However, as my muse has returned from her road trip from Tijuana (complete with a new tattoo and some carpet burn in VERY interesting places), I decided to trump card her and put this up.  
  
Jan: Thank you for your informative sentence about male and female elfs. However, since I'm writing about elves, I'm not sure if that tidbit really applies.  
  
Credit is given to a line from Jastaelf's fic "Leaf and Branch". Such a wonderful line that I had to snatch it, with her permission, of course. You'll see it, I'm sure.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Spring had come quickly, dispelling the deep chill of winter. Summer had followed swiftly after.  
  
The Queen's gardens had bloomed and blossomed beyond all expectation. One could conjecture that having a wood elf in residence had caused the plants to rejoice in their small enclosure.  
  
It was during the spring that the elf had started coming to the gardens on a constant basis. It was the elf's hands that had coaxed life from the trees. Perhaps the recovery of the gardens had triggered the recovery of the elf as well, for the gardens were the only place that Legolas felt well.  
  
For the entire spring, the entire palace staff held their collective breath, watching the Queen, waiting for the sickness to end. They watched as she grew thinner and paler, and worried. The cook prepared small dainties to tempt the appetite of the mother-to-be. Valda brewed endless pots of weak tea. Lanelese and Clotild made sachets of rosemary and lavender to overpower other odors that might trigger yet another bout of vomiting.  
  
But the gardens were the only cure for the sickness that seemed to plague Legolas morning, noon, and night. But even the gardens were a prison, hemmed in by four stone walls, and with guards who walked the walls and watched all. But they were still better than the rooms within.  
  
The old man who tended the gardens as his father before him and his father before him had obtained saplings from outside the city and planted them in the garden. His reasoning was simply that wood elves lived in the woods, not in flowering gardens. It was his thought that providing the wood to the elf would give comfort in some way. And he was right.  
  
The saplings spoke to the elf and he sang back to them, and the trees grew strong and thrived in their new home. The older trees listened and began to flower again. The smaller plants grew rapidly, trying to put as much into their short lives as they could before the bitter cold of winter came again.  
  
The gardens had a small pond as well, overlooked by a small willow. It was here that Legolas spent much of the spring. The breeze off of the water combined with the shade and the song of the willow had soothed away the worst of the sickness that had confounded the elf. After all, elves do not become ill.  
  
It was a common thing to see Legolas sitting beneath the willow on a blanket, head resting against the silvery trunk, eyes half lidded and glazed with sleep as he sought to dispel the fatigue that also took him. After all, elves do not experience exhaustion either.  
  
The king would come and sit with Legolas every day, cajoling and eventually forcing the elf to eat some small amount of food. They would talk softly, sometimes about the old days, sometimes about the kingdom, sometimes about those around them. Legolas would never discuss the child. After all, males do not bear children.  
  
Davyn avoided the gardens entirely after his first visit with the king. He had heard the tree's songs, and hated them. He preferred the lifeless character of the metal and stone that he worked with to the vibrant spirit of the grounds. It was much easier to use that which did not live.  
  
Summer came and brought with it the stifling heat and storms, as well as a feeling of discord to the palace.  
  
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Birds sang in the branches of the nearby willow. It sounded as if an entire flock had taken residence there, thought Gilby to himself. Of course that probably had happened since the elf had welcomed life back into the gardens.  
  
That same elf stood to one side, listening intently to the birdsong, head tilted, hair blowing slightly in some breeze that was non-existent for humans. The blue eyes settled back on the man and then the elf sat on the bench across from the Minister. With legs slightly spread and hands on knees, the elf leaned forward and looked expectantly at Gilby.  
  
The human allowed his lip to twitch in amusement. The body language was completely male, and at complete odds with the appearance of a beautiful female. Legolas allowed an eyebrow to arch delicately at the Minister's smile and then schooled his face to neutrality.  
  
"Have you spoken to the others? Are they with us?" Legolas spoke quietly, but confidently. The birds would let him know if there was someone around to hear what was spoken. Clotild sat some distance away, out of earshot but still able to chaperone her lady.  
  
Gilby's face went to its normal blank neutrality, amusement forgotten as his mind turned to the task at hand. "That depends." He shifted position, moving his sore leg to a more comfortable position. "The majority of the council agrees that something must be done. However, getting them all to agree to follow us is another matter."  
  
The fair face darkened. "How so?"  
  
The man sighed. "My sources indicate that Regin is still strongly loyal to Davyn, but he is the kind of man to see logic and sense when it is shown to him. I think we can turn him to our side. Arnlaug, of course, is with us and the majority of the council follows him. The rest are... hesitant. They are afraid of retribution from the king, even if we are successful in breaking the bond that Davyn has with him."  
  
Legolas frowned, brow wrinkled up. Gilby braced himself for the mood swing he felt coming. "What is it that they want? What more can I possibly do to convince them? Haven't I been through enough?" The last sentence was painful for the sheer venom in the musical voice.  
  
Gilby looked to the sky behind the blonde head. The clouds had turned dark and foreboding, the air heavy. A storm was brewing that would break on their heads soon. Lightning flashed from cloud top to cloud top while he watched. He turned his attention back to the elf in front of him, and then down to the now visible swell at the stomach. "The fact that you are most obviously bearing an heir to the kingdom has simplified things. Once the child is born, I am sure the rest will fall into line."  
  
Shaking his head slowly, Legolas replied quietly, "I do not wish to discuss such things." Long fingers twitched fabric over a stomach that was no longer flat in a futile attempt to hide what was now there, more from himself than from the man. "I am not bearing a child. I have no wish to bear a child. I will not bear a child." The quiet voice belied the steel that lay behind the words.  
  
The wind had picked up now and was now blowing the long blonde hair wildly about. With a sound of irritation, Legolas grasped his now waist length hair and tried to control it. "I have asked if I could cut my hair, but he will not allow it. I suppose it is yet another way that he controls me." With deft hands the elf began to braid the long locks into a pattern that he had not worn in months, fingers remembering design that was older than the city of Minas Tirith, plaits that marked one an elven warrior of the Sindarian branch.  
  
Hair now tamed, the elf looked back to the Minister with an expectant look. "Even if we cannot break the bond between them, the mage must be removed. The question is how? We cannot have everything resting in just one basket."  
  
Gilby leaned forward, his voice the barest whisper. "There is one other way, one we would not like to use. Once we have confirmed that there is a male heir to the throne." He held up a hand to stop Legolas from speaking, "Then we can remove the Mage AND the king if he resists. A regency can be set up to rule in the name of the child." He paused for a moment. "Of course, we do not want to do this unless there is no other choice. We have just gotten our king back after so many years. It would be a shame to have to lose him so quickly. "  
  
Legolas shook his head, eyes flashing. Lighting crashed somewhere behind them, illuminating them both in a bright blue light. "I will have nothing do to with that. I will not be party in any plot to take the life of an innocent." ::And Aragorn is an innocent, whether or not you realize it:: His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, unable to speak those words.  
  
The man sat back, his eyes veiled. "Of course not. Nor would you be expected to be part of that. We expect that you will be able to work in other ways before we would ever have to go to that extreme. But we must remember what is best for our kingdom."  
  
"Yes, yes. For the good of Gondor. I cannot tell you how many times I've heard that, and how sick unto death I am of hearing it." The elf looked up into the now black sky. With the braids and the intent look, the man could see illuminated by lightning the elven warrior within the fair body that was before him. "The storm will break soon. We should retreat inside." Legolas spoke with some reluctance, but the lighting strikes were coming closer, and the thunder growled like an untamed beast.  
  
With some difficulty Gilby rose to his feet and then gestured to Clotild who waited nervously nearby. The rain began to fall then, large drops that stung when they hit. The elf stopped, face turned to the skies, and arms outspread as if taking a lover. The maid tugged for a moment on the sleeve and then on the arm itself. The elf looked lost for a moment, and then focused on the humans, and followed them inside with a lingering look to the skies beyond.  
  
Lanelese had laid a fire in the hearth to take the dampness from the air and lit the lamps in the now dark room. Thunder crashed and boomed, causing the glass in the windows to shake. The sky was violently dark, illuminated only by the slashes of lightning that seemed to be tears in the essence of the heavens, showing the bright light of the void beyond.  
  
Legolas moved to the window and opened it, catching the precious glass pane before the wind could snatch them away and into the wall, shattering them into a million pieces of reflected starlight. He stood there, feeling the almost cold wind blow across him and through his hair, and watched the trees blow in the garden below. He could hear their song of joy at the freedom of the rain and wind, and could feel the same song swell in his own heart. The smell of the rain brought with it memories of home, and the time before he had been trapped here, and he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent.  
  
He did not realize he was being watched until he heard a gasp next to him. The lightning flashed again, illuminating the face of Aragorn with a cold, blue light. The man stared at the elf, and then slowly raised a hand to touch the wet braid.  
  
Aragorn's face twisted, emotions playing faster than could be read. Amazement changed to agony to anger in the blink of an eye, and then his hand fell heavily on the thin arm, the hand tightening painfully as he hauled the elf way from the window and into the room. The wind howled mournfully through the window, as if calling for a lost friend.  
  
"This", said Aragorn in a low, menacing voice as he pulled the braid again, "is forbidden." He then turned to Lanelese who had walked again into the room, and froze, eyes wide at the expression of rage on the king's face. "THIS IS FORBIDDEN. I HAVE TOLD YOU THAT!" His voice dueled with the thunder for dominance.  
  
The maid curtseyed deeply and then stuttered, "I… I'm sorry, Majesty. I will…" Her hands fumbled in her skirts, searching for a comb so that she could remove the offending braid as quickly as possible. Her face was pale with fear.  
  
Legolas shrugged the hand off of his arm and stepped in front of Lanelese. "I braided my own hair, Aragorn. She had nothing to do with it. It is, after all, my hair. I should be able to do what I please with it." He shook his head to dislodge the small fingers that were even now trying to pull out the braid.  
  
The gray eyes narrowed, and the thin lips curved into a mirthless smile. "No. Your hair, like the rest of you, is mine. Perhaps you need another lesson to remind you of your position here." He pushed the elf roughly to one side and then turned his cold gaze upon the small woman who trembled in front of him. "I cannot have you beaten for your willfulness, but there must be a punishment."  
  
With a sudden movement, the king snatched Lanelese's forearm and dragged her up to him. He held her small face in his large hand and turned her to look at Legolas. "Look at the one who is responsible for your punishment, little one. You can tell your mistress tomorrow how each lash felt as it fell across your shoulders." With each word, Lanelese's blue eyes got wider and began to fill with tears. The thunder roared like a hungry lion.  
  
Face grim and filled with anger, Legolas spoke firmly. "Aragorn, let her go. She is innocent. She's done nothing wrong."  
  
"Of course she's done nothing wrong." The fingers were starting to make bruises on the girl's pale cheeks. "But you have. And since I can't do anything to you as you are now, perhaps if I do this you'll think before defy me again."  
  
Legolas looked into the eyes of the maid, trying to calm her with a look. He then raised his eyes to those of Aragorn, and asked quietly, "Why do you do this? This is not something the Aragorn I knew would do."  
  
The maid's soft sobs were the only sound in the room for a long moment. Even the fury of the storm had lessened, as if it too were holding its breath and waiting for something to happen. Suddenly the hand on the girl's face opened, and Lanelese staggered free. She hesitated for a moment before running from the room.  
  
The king lifted his hand and gently took the elf by the chin and looked closely at what he held there. Proud blue eyes met his without fear, and in the harsh flash of lightning he could see a warrior's soul. His other hand raised and began to slowly unwind the braids, and in a soft voice he said, "I cannot bear to see you as you were before. The pain is too great."  
  
Reaching up and grabbing the hand, Legolas whispered back. "You cannot make me forget what I am, Aragorn." After a moment, he continued. "You can stop this at any time. You only have to choose to do so. The choice is yours."  
  
The king froze, his eyes fixed on the elf. "And what choice would you give me?" His body was taut, waiting.  
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes. This was something that he had considered for months. What choice could he offer the King of Gondor? ::I cannot offer power, for that is beyond my reach now. I cannot offer riches, for he does not lust for them. I cannot offer eternal life or health or any such thing; that is beyond my power to give. I have only one thing to give, and if I do so I may never be free, at least until he dies.:: He thought. ::But if I get his freedom, then I am sure to have mine soon after. I hope::  
  
"I will give you all that I am. I will be obedient to you, I will not try to escape you, and I will willingly give you all that you want, including children if that is your wish. I will stay with you until you die, in this form that you have given me, if you so wish." He closed his eyes for a long moment, and suppressed a sob at what he was offering. "I will stay with you and bind myself to you. I cannot do what Arwen did, as I have no human blood and no ability to choose to be mortal, but I can stay with you and try to make you happy for the rest of your days."  
  
Aragorn lowered his hand gently to the slender shoulder. "And what must I do to get this from you?" His voice was thoughtful and quiet.  
  
"You must divest yourself of your mage. Rid yourself of him and all his… works. For this and this alone I will give you what I have promised." The elf swallowed hard. "I swear it." There. It was said and sworn. There was no going back.  
  
The king raised his hand to finger the gold torc around his neck as he thought, and then he shook his head sadly. "I know what it cost you to make such an offer. It cost you everything you had, little one. But I already have everything you offered, even if it is not willing. Even if you do not choose to accept the fact, you already bear a child. Even if you do not want to admit it, you are bound to me. What you offer is, in effect, worthless."  
  
The king turned to look into the fire for a moment, and then back to the elf. "Davyn gives his power and knowledge to improve my kingdom. He benefits Gondor as a whole. And while having you give me all you offer willingly would make me very happy, my happiness is not worth giving up what benefits the kingdom as a whole." He walked to the door and looked back over his shoulder. "I am sorry." The door closed quietly behind him as he left.  
  
Legolas walked slowly to the open window. The storm outside had weakened, the thunder now merely a far off rumble, the lightning mere flickers against the gray sky. Numbly, he closed the window and then walked to the mirror to look at the woman within.  
  
He slowly sank to his knees and then to sit in front of her, tilting the mirror to follow him as he sank. He leaned back against the wall behind him and then looked slightly up at the woman who sat there next to him.  
  
"I gambled everything I had, and I lost." That seemed to be the best way to say it. She shook her head despondently back at him.  
  
"I don't know what else to do. I have nothing else to give." Together, they bowed their heads, weariness etched in every movement. "Nothing."  
  
It was at this moment that he felt the sensation that he had denied existed. A flutter, a roll, a kick. The woman in the mirror placed her hand on her swollen stomach and then looked back up into the mirror, meeting his eyes. Their eyes met, the fear he felt visible in her eyes. "This cannot be real. This cannot be happening."  
  
Her eyes turned reproving, reminding him that they both knew that this was real, that this was happening, and together they knew it all along, even if they would not admit it to themselves. The child kicked again, this time almost painfully, and Legolas placed his hand on his stomach and looked back to the mirror. "I fear I must accept this, and perhaps accept that you and I are the same person. I wonder if that is such a bad thing, that you and I are one in the same? Would I lose myself, do you think?"  
  
They studied each other for a few moments, while the child moved and kicked. With a sudden movement, Legolas rose to his knees, and then to his feet. He met the deep gaze of the woman in the mirror without fear and touched the glass, fingertip to fingertip to her. He spoke softly, but distinctly in his own language, "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil the son of Oropher, of the Kings of Mirkwood the Great. Prince of the Sindar from the Great Forest, I am the descendant of the Shining ones of the Teleri, a child of the Eldar. I was born of the breath of Iluvatar the Father of All, and Elbereth Star-Kindler shines down on me every night, as she has done since I was born. And you are me. And I remain what I am, no matter what is done to me."  
  
He smiled at himself in the mirror, and then looked down at his stomach. "I may have nothing left to give", he said quietly, "But there is something of value that I can take, if needs be." 


	10. Chapter 10

Standard Disclaimer: I own none of Tolkien's characters. I own my original ones. They kick major butt. Lanelese and Clotild are actually real people, my bestest buddies. And yes, Lanelese is actually like that in real life. So is Clotild. We mostly just smile and nod a lot at Lane.  
  
Note: Yes, I didn't really go into how Gondor interacted with other Kingdoms and how no one would have noticed Legolas gone. I see it now that you pointed it out, that HUGE gaping hole in the plot. I tried to close it a little, but I still suck. I'm sorry! Mea Culpa! I'll try harder next time!  
  
And no, Legolas is not going to fall in love/forgive his rapist. Yes, that is really what the whole thing is. But he also has to come to terms with his friend. That will be worked out much later.  
  
And Jasta and I both had life come by and hit us in the heads with big, nasty 2x4's with bent, rusty nails in the end, Jasta much worse than I. Life truly sucks. But I'll try and be faster with the next update. That is, if you want an update. The story could end here if you like, but I have more to tell, and there is so much more angst (ie childbirth and more Machiavellian twists and turns in the court). After all, Davyn is still alive, Legs is still caught and preggers and Lanelese is still looking for the perfect pair of shoes.  
  
So you can forgive me for the late update, I wrote a huge volume and didn't leave you on a cliffie but on a quiet note.  
  
Oh, and Meg, please don't damage your manicure on my account. Here you go, honey!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Clotild had clever fingers, Legolas thought to himself. The same fingers that could pick a lock were equally skilled in fine needlework. Legolas shifted in the window seat, pushing the small of his back against the stone wall even harder than before. The pressure helped to lessen the ache there. Or at least it seemed to.  
  
His attention was again drawn to the woman sitting next to him, her hands almost hypnotic in their motions. The seam was small and neat, nearly invisible in the silky cloth. The calluses on her fingers made almost inaudible sounds against the nap of the fabric as she ran her hands across the seam, checking her handiwork.  
  
Lanelese sat on the floor below them, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. In her hands was a heavy leather bound book, spine stamped with gold. Her voice was a pleasant murmur as she read aloud to them both. Lanelese read aloud often, usually to entertain herself. Clotild enjoyed hearing her in the process, and a symbiotic relationship was born. Clotild would often request obscure titles from the library so that she and Legolas could enjoy hearing the sound of Lanelese's voice almost as much as Lanelese herself enjoyed hearing it.  
  
The current selection was an interesting dissertation on the mystical. The sheer volume of information on his own people had been overwhelming, if misguided. This writer at least noted that elves did exist, although they were increasingly rare. The writer had also noted that in several places, his kind were becoming the stuff of legends.  
  
Lanelese was now reading the chapter on Earth Magics. Her tongue occasionally stumbled on some strange or technical word, but overall she was an excellent reader.  
  
"The main characteristic of the earth wizard, or hedge wizard, is the usage of personal energies to accomplish his goals. The hedge wizard is unable to use any energy except his own to do his workings, and he is also unable to accumulate or store energies. This makes their abilities extremely limited."  
  
The blonde stopped reading and yawned. At a gentle kick in the back of the head from Clotild, she sighed and turned the page to continue reading.  
  
"The true wizard is much more powerful than the hedge wizard because he is able to draw his strength from other sources to supplement his personal energies. A true wizard is identified by his usage of a familiar. The human body is simply too frail to hold a large amount of energy for an extended period of time, and would age and decay at an extended rate. The only exception to this rule is the Istari, who despite their appearances, are not human.  
  
"The main strength and weakness of a true wizard is his familiar. His familiar can help direct his strength as well as store his energies. However, if a familiar is injured or destroyed, the wizard is weakened or even killed." Lanelese sighed again. "Could you not choose anything more boring from the library, Clotild? Why couldn't you be like all the other girls and choose bodice rippers or romances?"  
  
Clotild swung her foot back, but then paused in thought. "Because you never know when you might need to know how to kill a wizard." She turned and looked at Legolas with a knowing look. "Do you not agree, My Lady?"  
  
Legolas raised stunned eyes to Clotild as his memory returned to Davyn's workshop. ::I know his weakness. It was in my hand. I know how to win.:: His thoughts ran like quicksilver. "I absolutely agree. You never know. Please continue, Lanelese. I find the subject… fascinating."  
  
At the young blonde's pained sigh Clotild swung her foot forward again and Legolas found himself laughing for the first time he could remember.  
  
  
  
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It was a glorious morning for a wedding. The day dawned clear and bright, with no sign of clouds on the horizon. The day boded well for Valda and Arnlaug.  
  
The sun crept through the window of the queen's chambers to find Legolas crouched over a parchment with Clotild and Lanelese. The pen in his fingers scratched frantically against the vellum as he drew the picture of what they were to obtain, and what they were to do with it. The discovery that he could show instead of tell had been a huge victory in his eyes. The wizard was careless in his arrogance for the more he pondered Davyn's spells, the more flaws he found in them.  
  
As one, the girls nodded and looked back to him. He rolled up the parchment and shoved it under the bed, and then smoothly rose to his feet to stand before the mirror. Touching the image of himself, fingertip to fingertip he spoke softly without turning to the maids. "What do you see in this mirror?"  
  
The maids looked at each other for a moment and then Lanelese stepped forward and looked into the mirror. "What do YOU see?" She asked back, voice soft and barely audible.  
  
"I see myself. Only myself." His hands slowly slid off the glass, and then to cover his swollen stomach. "Do you think that a slave that is born to slavery knows that he lacks freedom? Do you think he knows that he should be unhappy? Or would he just learn to adapt and be happy with what little he is given, never knowing that there was something better?"  
  
Clotild shot a questioning look to Lanelese, and the blonde narrowed her eyes. "I know not what you refer to, Lady. Your son will not be a slave, but heir to the throne of Gondor."  
  
Legolas turned his head slightly and looked at the maid in the mirror. "If you had to choose between two things, both of which were so vile and repugnant that they both sickened you, how would you decide?" The girl wrinkled her forehead in confusion at the subject change, but Legolas did not see it as his attention shifted back to his reflection.  
  
"I would choose the thing that was the lesser evil, I suppose. But how do you know the two things are the only choices? Is there no other option?" Lanelese's voice reflected her puzzlement, but Legolas merely nodded.  
  
"The options are at best limited. I will simply make the choice when the time comes." He frowned at his reflection and then turned to get dressed.  
  
The dress that Clotild brought forward was in shades of moss green with a silvery blue underdress that displayed richly embroidered sleeves and bodice. The fabric was soft and light, but still clung to the curves of his body. It emphasized the swell of his stomach by the way that it clung and then fell to his feet. From the back, it hugged the indentation of his waist, and then the swell of his hips and then fell in lush folds to the floor. The low neckline showed the collar and gem at his throat, and also the rise of firm breasts  
  
Clotild smoothed the fabric down and then gently pushed Legolas to sit so that Lanelese could dress his hair.  
  
Lanelese pulled small pieces of hair and began to make small individual braids, and then began to interweave the braids so that they formed a large diamond pattern on the fall of his hair. Into each junction she braided in a small gem, either a sapphire, emerald, or diamond. She ended this pattern at his waist, and then blended the loose ends of the braids back into the golden locks.  
  
The door to the King's chamber opened silently and Aragorn walked into the room. His overtunic was of a dark blue material with a burgundy undertunic peeking out underneath. The torc was now clearly displayed, resting on top of his tunic, both touching and not touching his skin. His leggings were of a slate grey, almost matching his eyes. His soft boots made a slight scuffing sound as he walked across the room, and then stopped to stand before Legolas.  
  
Lanelese curtseyed fearfully and scurried into the far corner of the room, her blue eyes still filled with the terrifying memory of her last encounter with him. He did not notice this however. His eyes rested on the elf in front of him. With a slight smile, the king extended his hand to the elf. "Stand so that I may see you more clearly."  
  
Legolas regarded the hand in front of him as he would a snake, and then gingerly placed his own in it. He stood smoothly and then walked a few steps forward.  
  
The king released the slender hand and then walked full circle around Legolas, inspecting his possession. After a moment he smiled, well pleased. "You are lovely beyond words, Legolas." He then leaned in to kiss the elf on the lips.  
  
Legolas turned his head and the kiss landed on his cheek instead.  
  
Aragorn's face darkened, his expression perturbed. With fingers of steel, he caught the small chin and turned Legolas back to face him again. He then moved his lips next to a delicately pointed ear and breathed a barely audible whisper. "You will behave today of all days." The voice was stern, giving no quarter. "If you do not, I suspect I will have to make good on my threat to have yon pretty one beaten. And this time I will not relent."  
  
All the elf could do was nod, and then accept the kiss that was forced upon his lips. ::I pray this works today. This will be my last chance. Valar help me.::  
  
The king none to gently grabbed his arm and then began to escort him to the door. The elf looked over his shoulder and looked at the maids with large eyes, imploring them silently. As one they nodded and smiled encouragement. He turned his attention forward, knowing he would have to have faith in them.  
  
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The last time Legolas had seen the great hall was in the winter during his own sad wedding. Now the great hall was done up in great masses of flowers and greenery. The bride was a noble woman, a ward of the king since her husband had died, and the groom was the chancellor of Gondor, second only to the king in importance. Even though this would be a second marriage for them both, it would be handsomely celebrated.  
  
The smell of flowers was sweet and pungent, but not overwhelming. A breeze flowed through from the open great windows. It kept the room from being stifling.  
  
The king paused at the entrance to the great hall, waiting for every eye to turn to him. "They wish to see you, not I." He looked sideways at the elf. "Few have seen you since we were wed, little one. They wish to see the evidence of my devotion to you." The king patted Legolas' swollen stomach and smiled.  
  
Before Legolas could react to this he was being dragged into the hall. Every eye in the room fell upon him as last time. This time however he held his head high and met the gazes that fell upon him. The faces that he saw were openly happy, smiling. There was laughter and joy in this room, whereas the last time he had been here there had only been his overwhelming sorrow and fear.  
  
They moved slowly up the room, people parting for them with some reluctance. Suddenly a young woman accosted him from the side. Her hands reached forward in supplication and she fell to her knees in front of Legolas. "Please, Majesty. Let me touch you so that I may share in some of your magic. I cannot conceive and my husband will put me away if I cannot bear him children. Please, Lady. Let me touch you." Her hands plucked at the hem of the gown like a nervous bird and Legolas took a step backwards, confusion written in his movements and expression.  
  
Aragorn moved forward, almost too swift for the eye to see. His hand was raised to summon the guards to carry the woman away, but then Legolas moved as well. He caught the hand before he could complete the signal, and then pushed it down. With a look of silent reproach, Legolas then turned back to the woman and sank to his knees as well. He took her hands in his own and then pressed them firmly to his stomach. "I don't know if this will help you or not, but I will share what I have with you willingly."  
  
The woman sobbed in elation and then met the elf's eyes. Human eyes widened with joy and then filled with tears. "Thank you, Lady. I will never forget this, and I will tell my children and their children of this moment. Thank you."  
  
She bowed her head and lifted the hem of his gown to her lips. Then she quickly disappeared into the crowd, immediately lost from sight.  
  
After a moment, Aragorn's hand appeared in front of Legolas' face again, and he gripped it so that he could stand and continue walking. As they walked slowly together, he could feel the light brush of fingertips as the people lightly touched his hair and gown as he moved past them. He looked into the faces in the crowd and saw approval and affection and smiled despite himself.  
  
They reached the councilors gathered at the head of the aisle, and then walked beyond to a pair of thrones set upon a low dais, one slightly shorter than the other. With a gentle push, Aragorn indicated that Legolas should sit while the king went and spoke with his council.  
  
The room was swirling with color and sound, Legolas reflected as he watched the crowd. The barons and lords were there, along with their families. The common servants of the castle had crowded into the back, all eager to catch a glimpse of the pageantry of nobility. His eyes moved over the crowd unseeing, as his fingers toyed with an imperfection of the wood on the arm of the throne.  
  
After a second his eyes jumped back to a shining face hidden in the back of the crowd. There he saw an elf with dark hair, his face glowing in the shadows of the back of the hall. He wore the livery of Ithilien. ::A messenger?::  
  
Elven eyes met elven eyes across the room, and Legolas felt his heart skip a beat as the messenger studied him intently. He dared to feel hope for a second that perhaps his people knew he was here and had come to help him, but then was shattered when the elf bowed his dark head in respect, turned and left. It took everything Legolas possessed not to stand and give chase. ::No! He did not recognize me. How could he not recognize me?::  
  
Davyn turned from where he stood with the king and the rest of the council and saw the desolate look on Legolas' face. He bowed to the king and moved to stand next to the throne and bowed again, this time with a mocking smile on his lips. "Does my Lady find something amiss?"  
  
Legolas shifted his attention to the mage and found his eyes narrowing in ill concealed hatred. Davyn saw this and only smiled wider. Turning his eyes back to the door, Legolas said quietly, "I saw someone from Ithilien."  
  
Davyn nodded. "Yes. A courier." The mage tilted his head and studied the elf closely. "You write often, you know." At Legolas' furrowed brow he continued. "All your correspondence has continued while you've been here. You write to your people in Ithilien, and to your dwarf friend in the Glittering Caves. We found it much simpler to keep up the appearance of the prince being here occasionally than to have him disappear entirely. Your reputation of wandering off for months at a time for some adventure or hunting trip makes the illusion much easier to maintain. The prince simply is never here when someone asks."  
  
Legolas bowed his head, hiding his fury from the mage. ::I must be defeated in his eyes. He must suspect nothing. I must not think of what is to come lest he see it in my eyes.::  
  
Schooling his expression, he looked up again. "And what is the news from my people?"  
  
With an eyebrow raised in surprise at the lack of reaction, the mage answered, "More of your people have left these shores. A few linger, but I think they will be departing soon. There is not much left to hold them here. The Age of Men is upon us all. Even your friend Gimli feels that. His letters say that his people are decreasing in number, although not to the extent that yours are."  
  
An expression of hurt briefly flashed across the fair face, an expression that was noted by those of the people watching the exchange. They could see Davyn's smile at the pain of their queen, and they were not pleased.  
  
Legolas' reply was cut short by the arrival of Aragorn. With a bow, Davyn returned to his place with the council, and Aragorn sat upon his throne. It was time.  
  
Valda walked through the great doors and Legolas gasped. He had never her seen her before in anything but widow's weeds and dark colors, but now she shone.  
  
Her gown was of a bright yellow, and gold and gems gleamed at her fingers and throat. Her hair which had always been upswept and modestly hidden now flowed freely down her back, almost to her knees. It was the richest chestnut, and decorated with wildflowers. The silver strands shone in the sun, merely adding to her beauty.  
  
But the most amazing change was her face. Her eyes glittered with joy, her face was flushed with excitement and her smile showed her bliss.  
  
Legolas glanced to Arnlaug, standing with the council. His face as he beheld his bride was heartbreaking. If there had been any doubt in anyone's mind that the two were deeply in love, the looks on their faces would have dispelled them instantly. It was the total opposite of the last time he had been in this hall.  
  
As Valda stood next to Arlaug and the wedding contract was presented Legolas found his gaze drawn to Davyn and then up to the window to check the position of the sun. ::Soon. Please let it be soon. Please, let them be successful:: He had not told them what he intended to do if they were not.  
  
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The corridors were empty. For this small blessing, Clotild sent many thanks winging their way up to whatever deity might be watching over them. The metal handle of the bucket cut into her hands, and the weight of the roll of silk cloth didn't make the burden any lighter.  
  
With a silent sigh, she wondered again how she ended up with this part of the job. ::Because Lanelese can seduce any man alive, that's why:: She rolled her eyes and then peeked around the corner to see what progress her fair partner had made with the guard.  
  
The mage had installed a guard in the hallway near his rooms after Legolas' last adventure. They had hoped that during the past uneventful months that security would have been relaxed, but the guard still stood. Fortunately, it was a guard known to Lanelese and her considerable charms. Unfortunately, he also had a sense of duty that had to be dealt with as well.  
  
The guard's broad back was to Clotild as she looked around the corner and caught Lanelese's eye. She gestured to the blonde to hurry up. The blonde smiled widely, strain showing in her lips as she widened her eyes and jerked her head for Clotild to duck back behind the corner.  
  
"Bryn", she continued. "Surely no one will come this way. Everyone is at the wedding. Please walk with me in the gardens. Surely you will find a flower there of such rarity and beauty that you will wish to possess it." She could hear Clotild's choked guffaw, and laughed loudly to cover the noise.  
  
The guard raised an eyebrow and smiled down at the little woman. She was lovely as usual, but acting strangely today. "Lanelese, I've tried to possess that rarest of blooms many times, but it keeps pushing me away when I would pluck it. I will not leave my post for the promise of something that is not to be."  
  
The maid pouted, lip trembling. "Bryn, I'm hurt that you would think such a thing of me. You know that I am a blossom of the highest virtue and purity. I would have the one who plucks me be worthy of me, as you are." There was another choked sound from around the corner and Lanelese made a mental note to place scorpions in Clotild's bodice drawer. "Come walk with me and let us decide how to resolve this. I do not like you to feel this way."  
  
The guard leaned down and kissed the top of the maid's head. "Why do we not decide how to resolve it here? There is no one here now, nor will there likely be anyone coming."  
  
Blue eyes wide in panic, Lanelese mentally scrambled. "Because… because.." She faltered and then saved herself, "Because I do not like the halls. They are dark and do not show my charms nearly as well as the light of the sun. I prefer to look my best at such times and that includes proper lighting, Bryn. Come to the gardens. The lighting is PERFECT there for my skin."  
  
Bryn shook his head sadly. "Sorry, little bird. I am on duty now. Perhaps later?"  
  
The maid blinked, stunned. She had been refused. No one refused her. No one. After a moment she smiled again. "Of course, Bryn. I shall await you in the great hall." She spun away, skirt swirling and then played her final card. She tripped upon a small speck of dust on the floor and went flying.  
  
Bryn lunged forward and caught the maid before she hit the ground. "Lanelese! Are you alright?" All he could see were her shoulders shaking as she shook her head. The delay of him trying to help her up gave her the opportunity to conjure up a respectable amount of tears.  
  
"I twisted my ankle, Bryn. It hurts. I feel it swelling even now!" She turned tear filled blue eyes up towards the tall guard, and allowed a single tear to spill down her white cheek. She made as though to stand and then fell against Bryn, into his arms with a small wail of pain. She looked over Bryn's shoulder and saw Clotild watching with a look of complete amazement. It was far from attractive to stick one's tongue out, but it was also satisfying at times, so she did it. Clotild made frantic motions again, pointing out the sun's position in the sky and that time was passing as Lanelse snuggled her face into the guard's strong neck and shoulder. With a sigh, Lanelese continued, "I feel it swelling, Bryn. Can you help me to the garden so I can soak it in the cool waters of the pond? Surely that will help."  
  
The guard looked back and forth. The maid was right. No one would be here, and it was his duty as well to help those in need of aid. It helped that she was young, attractive and possibly willing. With an effortless swoop, he picked up the small body into his arms and began to turn back the way Lanelese had come to take her to the gardens.  
  
"NO!!! NOT THAT WAY!!" Lanelese could shriek like a banshee when she wished. She froze when he stared at her. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and wriggled herself against him. "Take the longer way, Bryn. I like the feel of you holding me."  
  
With a confused sigh Bryn turned the other way and walked, Lanelese tucked up securely in his arms. Lanelese's smile and hand gesture over the broad shoulder as they left expressed her joy in a job well done and the fruits of her labors.  
  
Clotild counted to fifty and then walked around the corner. She swiftly ran to the heavy wood door and placed the bucket and silk on the floor next to it. The lock quickly fell to her pick again. The mage had not even bothered to change it. She wondered briefly if he had perhaps placed a trap in his rooms instead and decided to be extremely careful.  
  
The key to the workshop had been in the same place, just as Legolas had drawn it and the door had opened easily. She left the key in the lock outside and then walked in.  
  
The workshop was bright and cluttered with many strange things, but the thing she sought was right in the open as expected. She wrapped her hands in the silk and then pulled the thing down to her and wrapped it even more tightly in silk. It then went into the wooden bucket. No part of it would be allowed to touch stone or metal.  
  
It was while she did this that she did not hear the click of the door closing behind her. She did not discover it until she turned to go and found the door locked, with the key still in the other side.  
  
She pursed her lips in annoyance. She could not pick the lock with the key still in the door. It blocked the tumblers. How could she have been so stupid? She turned slowly, surveying the entire room. There was no other way out. She tugged on the door again, but it did not budge. She was trapped.  
  
  
  
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The wedding feast progressed and Legolas watched Davyn for some sign that their plan had worked. The mage remained annoyingly healthy. He glanced out the window again. The sun was past its zenith and was descending now. ::Something happened. They have failed. If I am to act, I must do so now while I still have some small amount of freedom.::  
  
He closed his eyes and made his choice. ::I must do this. The Valar will never forgive me, but it will save the young one from a fate worse than death:: His eyes opened and found himself filled with a frightening calm.  
  
Valda glanced down the table and met Legolas' blue eyes as he glanced her way. The elf radiated an aura of serenity that had never been exhibited before. The countess frowned for a moment before turning back to her husband.  
  
Legolas slowly rose from his seat, and then moved back towards the side door towards the garderobe that he had already visited multiple times today without incident. Aragorn glanced up and away, and then back over. The elf stood in the far doorway and met his eyes. With a small smile at his captor Legolas then lifted his skirts and ran.  
  
Aragorn carefully placed his knife on the table, stood slowly and walked casually across the hall to the side door. He turned back and made a gesture at Davyn. As soon as he was out of the sight of the populace, he ran after his queen.  
  
Legolas skidded to a halt in the hallway, looking frantically for the path that he knew he was to take. He knew he only had a few moments leeway before Aragorn would capture him, and the dress slowed him considerably.  
  
He heard the sound of running feet behind him and turned to the first staircase. There. That would take him where he wanted. His feet flew as he climbed the stairs, and entered another gallery. He ran down the straight stretch of hallway and heard Aragorn come to the top of the stairs and run afterwards. "Legolas!", the king bellowed, his anger giving him speed.  
  
Legolas ran harder; his feet barely touched the ground as he flew down the gallery. He came to another flight of stairs going up. The entrance was flanked by two pedestals with statues of some obscure city official from the distant past. It was with little remorse that Legolas knocked them down as he flew past. They had just given their lives for a noble cause. He ran up the stairs, starting to breathe a little hard now.  
  
Aragorn's curses filtered up the stairwell as he tripped and then climbed over the wreckage. Legolas knew that it would only buy him a few seconds, and he was beginning to tire. The child was having more of an effect on him than he realized.  
  
He reached the head of the stairs and there stood an armed guard. The guard seemed as surprised to see Legolas as Legolas was to see him. They stood and regarded each other for a moment while Legolas panted for breath.  
  
Aragorn's feet began to run up the stairs again, and his voice preceded him. "Catch her! Don't hurt her, but catch her!" The guard put aside his sword and then opened his arms as if to grab the small and helpless looking woman in front of him.  
  
He soon discovered that looks are often deceiving as Legolas ducked under his arms, bundled both of his hands into a fist and rose up and swung them into the back of the guard's head as hard as he could. The guard fell off balance and tumbled down the stairs, plowing into Aragorn as he came up the stairs. They both rolled back down, a tangle of arms, legs and curses.  
  
Legolas darted through the doorway and onto the walls of Minas Tirith. His goal was ahead of him, up another long flight of stairs. The tall watchtower that overlooked the city and the lands below loomed ahead of him as he poured on a final burst of speed and then climbed the long stairs to the top.  
  
The tower was round and open on all sides with a waist high wall surrounding it. Crenellations were on top of this, giving both an excellent view of the land around, and also cover against archer fire. After a pause to get his bearings Legolas climbed up to the wall, and then on top of one of the crenellations. He stood there, looking out over the city, and then down. The ground was far below. There would be no surviving that fall, even for one of the firstborn.  
  
He looked up again and narrowed his eyes against the sun. The day was clear and bright and there was no haze. He thought perhaps that dark smudge he could see on the far horizon might be his beloved woods. He put his hands over his stomach. ::I wish it could be another way, young one. But the alternative is so much worse for you.:: Visions of a small golden collar danced behind his lids when he closed his eyes.  
  
He heard footsteps at the head of the stairs and turned to face them.  
  
  
  
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Clotild was cursing colorfully beneath her breath. She had spent what seemed to be many hours trying to find a way out of the workroom. She had heard that wizards always had secret passages and escape routes from their dens, but she had been unable to find one. Either she was not looking in the right places or Davyn was too arrogant to have one. Given the amount of time she had spent looking, she thought it was the latter.  
  
She then returned to the door and pondered it. When staring at it failed to cause the lock to quail in fear and open before her fury, she then used her mind.  
  
After searching she had found that Davyn had several large, thin books of what appeared to be spells. She was able to find one large book that would slide under the door when opened. She situated the book below the lock area and pushed it out as far as it could go with her still able to slide it back in.  
  
She then returned to the lock. With one of the daggers she had found on the workbench she slowly pushed the key backwards from the lock until it fell. She closed her eyes and prayed as she did this, hoping that something heard her and would watch over her.  
  
The key fell with a thump, not a clang, and Clotild slid the book carefully back under the door. The key lay on top of the pages and then was in her hands.  
  
She finally opened the door and then grabbed her burden and ran into the hall.  
  
Lanelese waited for her there. "Where have you been? I had to do such things to keep Bryn busy!" The blonde couldn't help but smile for a moment.  
  
"I got delayed." Together the two maids grabbed the handle of the heavy bucket and ran towards the great hall.  
  
But the plans had changed.  
  
-0-0-0-0-0-00—0-0-0-0  
  
Legolas turned to face as Aragorn as he came to the top of the watchtower, followed closely by Davyn and Arnlaug. The king was panting for breath, his face scraped from his fall down the stairs. Davyn glowered evilly and moved forward, only to be stopped by a hand on the arm from Arnlaug.  
  
"Legolas, come down from there." Aragorn spoke, his voice silky. There was a note of fear behind his voice.  
  
Taking a deliberate step backwards so that his heels rested on the line between stone and air, Legolas shook his head in the negative. The wind blew around him, causing the gown and his hair to whip in the wind. The dress tightened on his stomach, clearly showing the king the pregnancy that was the ultimate goal of his actions.  
  
When Legolas at last spoke, it was one word, softly spoken yet heard by all. "Choose."  
  
Aragorn turned to Davyn and gestured towards the elf on the battlement. "Do something!"  
  
The mage turned to the king. "I can do nothing. Let him go. We will catch another one for you, My Lord. That one we will hold much tighter." The voice was oily in its disregard.  
  
There was a look of total astonishment in Aragorn's eyes as he processed the words of his mage.  
  
He then turned and took a step towards Legolas, hand outstretched. "Come down." His voice was no longer as firm. "I promise I won't be angry. Just come down."  
  
Legolas looked down at the king and shook his head again. Lifting his skirt to show his feet, he lifted one foot and hung it over the edge. "Choose."  
  
Aragorn raised his hands to the torc at his neck and then looked back at the mage. "No, my Leige. Leave it on."  
  
Hand alternately grasping and releasing the torc, Aragorn looked from one to the other, his breath coming in painful gasps. His expressions ranged from pain to anger to fear and back again. Behind him Valda and Gilby had joined Arnlaug.  
  
Legolas smiled serenely down at them and spoke one last time. "Goodbye." He then shifted his weight from the foot on the battlement to the foot over the air and began to fall backwards.  
  
"NO!!! LEGOLAS!" With a wrench, Aragorn ripped the torc from his neck and threw it to the ground, and then leapt up to the wall. He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the falling elf, catching Legolas by the knees. The force of the falling body nearly yanked the king off his feet and over the wall, but Arnlaug had run up behind him and grabbed his king around the waist.  
  
Valda and Gilby had watched the torc fly through the air and land at their feet. The metal made an almost musical chime when it hit the stonework and then shattered into hundreds of pieces. Each piece gleamed in the sun for a moment and then, as if the sun's light was too hot, melted and ran down between the cracks of the stone tower, gone forever. The countess and the councilor looked at each other and then to Davyn. The mage's face had gone white and then red with fury, eyes burning.  
  
As one, they moved between the mage and their king.  
  
The sudden stop had snapped Legolas' back and head into the wall, and he limply hung there for a few moments as the world spun around him. After a moment, the elf realized that his fall had ended, and in fact was reversing itself as he was pulled back up the wall. The rough stone scraping the back of his legs and back helped bring him back to himself. With frantic energy he began to fight the arms that were pulling him back up until Aragorn's bellow reached down to him. "Stop, you fool. I chose you."  
  
Legolas went limp again, unknown emotions coursing through him as he was pulled back up onto the battlement. He looked to Aragorn's neck and saw that the torc was gone and smiled, but the smile was short lived.  
  
Davyn raised his hands above his head and drew his power to himself. His true face was now revealed, wrinkled and aged and horribly cruel. With a flick of his power he sent Gilby and Valda flying sideways, each heavily hitting the wall and falling to the ground senseless. Another flick sent Arnlaug to lie beside his bride.  
  
The mage closed the distance between the king and the elf slowly, his aura flickering blue around him as he prepared for a final strike. "At last I have my revenge, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. It may not be as sweet as I might have wished, but I will still have it at least." The burning eyes fell on Legolas. "I underestimated you, elf. You were something more than less than nothing. But you have still failed. Prepare to die." Davyn raised his arms and gathered his power to him to strike, this time to kill.  
  
Behind him, unseen as servants often are, came two young women lugging a heavy wooden bucket. As one, they took in the scene before them, upended the bucket carrying a silk wrapped contraption of gold wire and crystals, and then together lifted the bucket over their heads and slammed it down onto one of the crystals. The impact caused the crystal to shatter, releasing a scream as it turned into powder. They raised the bucket again, and shattered another one. And then another.  
  
At the first crystal's death, the aura around Davyn began to flare and grow brighter, and then dim. His face turned from one of anger to agony, and a scream came from between his lips that made those around him cover their ears. He turned and tried to move to where the women were shattering his familiar, but instead fell to his knees in agony as another crystal died. And then to his belly squirming in pain. He keened and howled and the tattoos on his arms writhed angrily, and the animals shown there began to rend and devour one another.  
  
There was only one crystal left and the bucket was raised when Arnlaug's voice rang out. "Hold!" The weary maids froze and then lowered the bucket gently, but still ready to give the death blow to the vile creature before them.  
  
Arnlaug helped Valda to her feet and then walked over to the mage. With a large hand he grabbed the front of the blue robe and pulled the now broken mage to his feet. Davyn's eyes were red with broken blood vessels caused by his screaming, and blood from them ran down his cheeks. With a deliberate movement, Arnlaug curled his hand into a fist and then struck the mage squarely in the face, and then turned the pathetic creature in his hand to face the King of Gondor.  
  
Aragorn looked at Davyn for a moment and then turned back to Legolas, grey eyes wide in horror as he surveyed the body of his friend. "I… I did this to you?" His voice was thick with some unknown emotion as he touched the pregnant belly of his former swordmate.  
  
Legolas looked deeply into the grey eyes and was relieved to find no trace of the creature there. "Yes, you did this to me." His eyes narrowed in anger and he balled up his fist and punched the King of Gondor with all his strength in the stomach. "Never touch me again without my consent, Aragorn. Never." Aragorn doubled over and wheezed, and then nodded his understanding.  
  
Legolas brushed past the hunched over king to stand before Davyn. Lip curled in disgust, he spoke to the mage. "Free me." His hands indicated the collar, the stone, his body.  
  
Davyn swayed on his feet, and then focused bleary eyes on the elf. From somewhere he summoned the strength to give his evil smile and spoke, lips rising from bloodstained teeth. "Why are you so swift to kill what you bear? Are you unhappy that your first attempt failed?" The bloody eyes crinkled in extreme good humor as they shifted from the elf to Aragorn, who had come to stand behind Legolas. "If I return him to his form, it will kill your child. Is that what you wish?"  
  
Legolas staggered under the weight of this revelation and turned tortured eyes to Arnlaug. Arnlaug frowned and shook the mage. "I should just kill you now, cur. Tell me why I shouldn't."  
  
The mage's smile got bigger. "Because my death will not undo the spell. The only death that can undo it is the death of your king, because the elf is bound to him. Only I can undo the spell, and you must have me alive for that." The mage turned his head painfully to the chancellor. "Caught and double caught, old man", he wheezed and then choked on his blood.  
  
The mage turned back to the King. "Now find out what your elf will do, King." The title was sneered.  
  
"Legolas?" Aragorn asked quietly, the question not needing to be spoken.  
  
The elf had turned to the wall again, staring out at the dark smudge of trees on the far horizon. His eyes were filled with desolation as he looked at the thing he wanted most, yet could not have. He slowly turned his head to Aragorn, and softly spoke. "I never thought past the moment of beating him. I never thought about the rest of this." He swallowed hard. "He was going to take the child and bind it like he did to us, Aragorn. I knew I couldn't allow that to happen. Taking the child away from that was the lesser of the two evils. But now…"  
  
Legolas turned and glared at the mage. "He needs to be kept in a place with no stone or metal, Arnlaug. Wood and cloth and rope. Nothing else. Keep him alive so that I can be free when this is over." Arnlaug nodded and then motioned to his wife.  
  
Valda walked forward, long hair blowing in the wind, brown to Legolas' blonde. "And the babe?" She asked in dulcet tones.  
  
"I will bear your heir. And when I have done so, I will be returned to my body and I will leave this place forever and go into the west." Legolas replied bitterly.  
  
"Do you swear this? Do you swear you will bear the heir for Gondor?" Valda pressed the issue again.  
  
Legolas nodded. "I swear it." Fatigue made his voice thick.  
  
"Heard and witnessed." Gilby's voice rang clearly as he limped forward to help restrain the mage. "We need to make a special prison for you, Davyn. I for one look forward to every moment of doing so. Shall we tie him in a sack and hang him from the rafters until after the wedding feast is done?"  
  
"I think that is an excellent idea." Aragorn spoke quietly. "And we must find a fitting way to reward the bravest of us all." His gaze fell upon the two maids who still stood ready to strike a death blow to the now defeated mage. "We all owe our lives to these two ladies. I shall strive to find something fitting of such bravery."  
  
The king then turned to Legolas, eyes filled with sorrow. "I would escort you back down the stairs and to the hall, if you would allow me. That way we could talk as we went. There is much we must speak of."  
  
Legolas nodded stiffly and took the proffered arm. He was tired and the stairs seemed steeper going down than coming up. It was all a matter of perspective, he supposed. 


	11. Chapter 11

Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing. I own no one. I am a hack, writing in someone else's world.  
  
I know it's been a while, and in between my life and FF.net blowing up pretty much in sequence, it's been interesting.  
  
The story continues….. Loyalties are shifting, rearranging. And who do you think will get stuck in the middle?  
  
I promise the next chapter will not be this long in coming! Sorry.  
  
Notes:  
  
Good reads: Besides Jastaelf's "Dark Leaf", of course…. Try Treehugger's "In the Hall of the Wood Elf King." Legs in pink. Nuff said. Also Ithilien's "The Hunting Trip" .. Freaky-deaky stuff coming there….  
  
Also, for a really good read, well written, and enjoyable try Nebride's "The Road to Isengard" and "The Caverns of Mirkwood"  
  
And I have to admit quite a liking for "Ends of the Earth" by Kungfuqueen. Elrond's twins don't get much non incest (shudder) fiction on ff.net, but this is actually pretty charming, and had me rolling on the floor with the visual of Galadrial as the punishing grandma. I haven't finished it yet, but I'm enjoying it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The bow felt like a long forgotten lover to his fingers. The wood was silky and smooth but the string was rough. The blisters that had formed on his fingers seemed almost as if the bow was taking vengeance from being scorned for so long.  
  
With a sigh, the elf raised his bow and took careful aim at the target on the far side of the field. ::Steady. Aim. Breathe in. Breathe out and release:: The bowstring sang a deadly note as the arrow shot towards its destination. He could feel his mouth turning down in a frown as he watched the arrow bury itself in the butt. ::Left again. It seems I must relearn my stance as well as toughen my fingers and muscles.::  
  
He absently rubbed the area on his left breast where the bowstring had snapped him the first time he'd shot. The sensation had been so incredibly painful that it only took one mishap for him to learn to adjust his posture, but now his aim and balance had suffered. When one has done something the same way for years uncounted it is near impossible to change that way in the course of days or weeks. That did not mean that Legolas had not tried his best to do so, however.  
  
He raised a sore arm over his head, trying to stretch out the ache of overtired muscles and then looked at his now bloodied fingers. ::It is probably time to stop now:: At least he could draw the bow now, although not as easily as he would have liked. It took him many days of straining effort to have that victory, and then more days of practice to come near his former prowess.  
  
With another sigh he began to trudge towards the butts to collect his arrows. It allowed him time to reflect upon the many meanings of freedom. He was now free. Free to come and go as he wished. The bars had been removed from the windows, the locks from his doors, the guards from his path. But he still remained bound to a body that was not his, bound to a child he should not be bearing, and bound to a man that he alternated between feeling friendship and antipathy towards.  
  
He hissed in pain as he wrapped his fingers around the wooden shafts and pulled them from the target. The short walk across the field had been enough for the nerves in his fingers to remember that they were no longer numbed with constant activity and remind him that he had severely abused them.  
  
Task done, he then turned and checked the sky. It would be dark soon. Time to head back to the palace.  
  
He pursed his lips and gave a low whistle. With a spirited whinny, Arod crested the hill and ran forward, eager to carry his elf wherever he was asked. With a snuffle, the horse nuzzled into the waiting hand and encountered the wounds there. The horse snorted his disapproval and then nudged his elf towards his strong back.  
  
Legolas patted Arod lovingly with his good hand, and then turned to unstring his bow. Bow securely stowed on his back next to his white handled knives, he then lightly leapt onto the waiting horse and then looked behind him for the ever present guard that watched over his every move.  
  
Bryn waited for him on the far side of the range, unobtrusive as usual. Aragorn had insisted that the guard was for his safety, not for any other reason, and certainly not to curtail his movements or freedom in any way. It helped that the guard was Bryn, who was to marry Lanelese. Along with Clotild she had chosen to stay in Legolas' service, albeit now as newly ennobled women. At least on paper Bryn seemed to be the most innocuous of guards available because of that connection. However, in the shifting sea of loyalties and politics that was the ruling class of Gondor, anything was possible.  
  
Legolas twitched the loose, faded tunic he wore over his stomach while he waited for Bryn to catch up. The waist of the leggings was a little tight but would still be bearable for a while longer.  
  
When his clothing had been returned it became distressingly clear that he would be unable to pull his leggings up over his stomach, or close any of his shirts over his chest. It was with some embarrassment that he'd turned to Valda and asked if he could borrow any of Arnlaug's old clothing. The tunics hung on him and the pants were baggy everywhere except the stomach, but they were comfortable for the moment.  
  
With a toss of his head, Arod started towards the palace. The archery fields were several levels down the city behind the guard barracks and were reachable only by going through the city. Together the guard and elf passed the sentry at the grounds entry and moved into the city proper.  
  
The end of the day was near and the streets were crowded. The smell of cooking food filled the air with spicy and savory smells, and the sound of music swelled from numerous pubs and taverns on the wayside. The people in the street moved to one side to allow the horses room to pass when they saw who was in their midst.  
  
The chatter of the crowd was cheerful and made Legolas smile despite himself. The people of Gondor were overall a goodhearted folk, made strong by adversity. Aragorn loved them and would do anything for them, and the people reciprocated this to their king and now to their queen.  
  
Legolas knew he made a sight that would make the council cringe. Sweaty, dirty, in oversized old clothing, carrying weapons openly and riding bareback down the main thoroughfare of the white city. Yet this same sight endeared him to the people of Minas Tirith. They smiled and waved, and some of the bolder ones reached out to touch an outstretched hand, or to stroke Arod on the flank as he passed.  
  
Legolas' smile turned sheepish as the sound of a now too familiar song wafted up from one of the bigger taverns. A heroic ballad of epic length, it extolled the virtues of the three brave women who defeated the evil mage and freed their king from his bondage. Even when he ignored that the facts were completely inaccurate, the extravagant language, the discordant melody and the constant references to him as "The fairest flower that e'er grew in the gardens in Minas Tirith" or "The brightest gem that ever shone in Gondor's crown" or "The King's beauty made of sunlight and stars" set his teeth on edge.  
  
But it made the people happy. They sang it and bellowed it and danced to it. They drank their wine and celebrated the elevation of two of their number in the form of the brave maids and talked in warm, fond tones about their elven queen. So much warmer and so much more accessible than Arwen. Always willing to smile and wave to even the most humble person. And now, even willing to stop and speak for a moment or two on the way to or from the archery fields. Not at all arrogant, or afraid of the populace like other noble ladies, they would sniff to themselves.  
  
Legolas smiled at the memory of the expression on Valda and Arnlaug's faces when he announced that he was going to the fields to take up his bow again. He was told that women did not do such things in Gondor, especially noble women with children in the offing. Nor did noble women go to the stables each morn and care for their mounts with their own hands, nor did they wear old leggings and tunics, nor did they do much of anything, it seemed. But Aragorn, either from respect for his friend or more likely guilt, forbade Legolas nothing.  
  
Legolas found it even more gratifying to shock Arnlaug with the revelation that he intended to go also to the sparring fields during the guard's practice and practice his knifework. Aragorn had laughed at his chancellor's discomfiture and then said quietly, "No. I do not think you will do that, my friend. I have no objection to the archery, but there will be no sparring."  
  
Legolas had fixed Aragorn with a cold stare that showed his displeasure. "Do you forbid me this?"  
  
The king shook his head. "No. I forbid you nothing. But I do forbid any in my kingdom from fighting with you. You will find no opponent here." He made as though to clap the elf on a shoulder but then stopped his hand suddenly, remembering that there was no consent given for even the most casual of touches.  
  
Legolas' thoughts were drawn back to the present again when Arod stopped in front of the stables. The elf blinked and then lightly leapt down and walked inside, Arod close behind.  
  
Summer was fading and the cool nights of autumn had come. The stables were still warm and cloying with the earthy smell of horse and all that came with it. Legolas wrinkled his nose and then moved to brush and feed his equine friend.  
  
As the horse munched his way though his grain, Legolas then turned his footsteps towards his daily destination.  
  
An old shed in the main gardens had been converted to serve the purpose of holding Davyn, and would have been considered pleasant to any but him. The stone building had been fitted with wood floors and wood paneling. The open wood beams of the ceiling remained open, allowing fresh air to move through the bars of ironwood that had been placed in the windows and across half of the living area. There was not an ounce of metal, a single nail, or an exposed surface of stone used in the construction of this prison. The wood had been pegged or neatly dovetailed together with a master craftsman's eye for detail. Truly, it was a work of art.  
  
Even his furnishings were of wood, leather, and rope. The wood bedstead with the straw ticking and the wooden chairs with the leather seats or even the wooden table with its boiled leather candle holder were all held together with a woodworker's skill. The wood paneling gleamed in the candlelight, reflecting a rich gleam into the rest of the room.  
  
The windows were fitted with glass, but the ironwood bars made even that beyond the mage's reach. There was nothing that was not once alive that he could lay his hands upon.  
  
Legolas nodded to the guard that sat in the open side of the shed. It was his custom to come here every evening and inspect this prison himself. Each evening every ironwood bar received a yank, each floorboard a close inspection, each piece of paneling a deep scrutiny. He still did not sleep nights, but it seemed to settle his unease a little to check everything.  
  
Legolas walked close to the bars and tugged first on one and then another, slowly walking his way down the length of the room. The first few times that he had done this, the mage had raced to the bars and tried to touch the blue stone that still resided the base of his throat. Legolas had easily ducked and the guard had been less than gentle in the use of his cudgel. It had not taken long for an uneasy truce to be called between mage and elf.  
  
After Legolas assured himself that the mage was safely ensconced he then strolled over to the remaining chair at the guard's table, turned it and then straddled it so that his chin rested upon his folded hands on the back. He was able to watch Davyn easily that way.  
  
The guard reached down and brought forth a cloth bundle and slowly opened it to show a wedge of hard cheese. He diffidently pushed it to rest on the table in front of the elf. He well knew that Legolas did not eat nearly as much as a breeding woman should, and it showed in the painfully thin arms and wrists. He also well knew it was because the elf avoided all communal meals that would have required taking company with the king. Such things were well known by many.  
  
Legolas shifted his gaze from the captive mage down to the cheese and then over to guard. After a moment he shook his head and spoke softly. "Thank you, Arick. You don't have to do such things. I've told you that my people do not require as much to eat as yours do."  
  
Arick merely raised his eyebrow and nodded towards the cheese.  
  
With a slight smile and a slow shake of his head, Legolas broke off a small piece and nibbled at it delicately. The sharp flavor was enough to interest him to eat a bigger bite than he initially thought he wanted. He then turned his attention back to Davyn.  
  
For a long moment the elf and the mage regarded each other through the bars. The mage was dressed in a rough woolen robe that was similar to the blankets on the bed. The mage's true face was revealed, lines and scars visible where once there was the illusion of youth, and his eyes glittered in the candlelight.  
  
After a moment Legolas turned to Arick and nodded. Ponderously the guard stood, his large frame making him seem bearlike in the darkening room, and lumbered to the door with a silent gesture at the prisoner with his cudgel. Davyn gave a low, mocking laugh in the back of his throat and then returned his attention to the elf. After the guard was around the corner, he lifted the book he had been reading and spoke. "You smell of horse. I cannot bear the smell of horse. It sickens me."  
  
"Good." Legolas picked up another piece of cheese. His appetite was returning despite the company.  
  
Davyn tried again. "Your sadistic maids have been put in charge of my reading material, it seems. Could you ask them to provide me with something besides light romances and bodice rippers? Or perhaps I should just ask to be flogged now?"  
  
An involuntary smirk found its way to Legolas' face. It appeared that Clotild and Lanelese enjoyed their responsibilities laced with a touch of cruelty. "I will talk to them. I would suspect that you might end up with recipe books instead, however."  
  
The mage solemnly nodded. "That would be a drastic improvement over the adventures of Lady Alfreada and her heaving bosoms."  
  
There was silence as they regarded each other through the bars again. After a moment Davyn spoke again. "Are things as unsettled in the court as I suspect they are?"  
  
Legolas raised an eyebrow. "It is my understanding that there is much contention over who will be my replacement. Lord Kelsig has a daughter who appears to be the front runner in the broodmare sweepstakes."  
  
Davyn grunted. "Kelsig's daughter is just the right age. But her father has many enemies in court. I would expect that there would be many people unhappy with this development." He paused for a moment, flipping the pages in the book absently. "Of course, no one they could choose would be as acceptable to everyone as you or Arwen were. Everyone else has alliances or blood ties that could confuse even a master plotter such as me."  
  
"It matters little enough to me. I will do what I have promised and then leave. What goes on after I have left I cannot control." Legolas stretched, attempting to ease some of the soreness from his lower back.  
  
"It should matter greatly to you what happens." Davyn placed the book on the floor with an audible thump. "Do you forget what you will leave behind?" The mage shifted forward to stare at the elf. "Infants die every day in Gondor. They are small and weak and tend to fail easily. No one would think it odd if even a royal babe should die if there is another one soon on the way to replace it."  
  
Legolas recoiled at the thought. "What kind of creatures are Men that they would even consider such a thing?" Disgust was thick in his voice.  
  
"Men are not Elves. Men breed wantonly and with great abandon. And their children are as tools to them, to be used and sometimes to be cast aside. If you are not here to defend the child, it is not outside the realm of possibility." If anything, Davyn's eyes glittered even more in the gloom. The silence deepened between the two of them, and then the mage spoke again. "They will betray you. You know this."  
  
"Who?" Legolas furrowed his brow in confusion at the change in subject.  
  
"Those you trust. Those with whom you are friendly, but not friends." Davyn's voice went lower, as if he were afraid of being overheard. "The council. I know them well. Trust me on this."  
  
"Why should I believe anything that you say? I have no reason to trust you." Scorn filled the elf's voice.  
  
"Because of all the things I have done, I have never lied to you. Not once." Brown eyes met blue across the room with a frightening intensity.  
  
"Aragorn would never allow them to betray me. He is a man of honor." The words fell from Legolas' lips before he could catch them.  
  
Davyn stood and walked to the bars and stared down at the elf. "No? Look at yourself and then repeat that."  
  
"He was your creature. He would never have countenanced this otherwise." Legolas remained seated, but glared at the mage before him.  
  
Mocking laughter emerged from the cell. "I created nothing in that man. I merely took what was hidden, albeit deeply, and brought it to the surface." The mage then lounged against the bars and continued, his voice a low hiss. "He was given the choice of others, and he chose you. He leapt at the chance to have you, not the others. He has always wanted you in some deep, hidden part of his mind that he didn't even realize existed." The grin turned almost predatory. "And when took you for the first time, he thanked me. And he thanked me every night after that for making his elven dream come to life."  
  
Legolas stood and walked to the cell, fists clenched. "Why do you share this with me? What good does it do you?" His blue eyes burned with anger.  
  
Davyn smiled again, wrinkles drawing his face up into dark mirth. "For the same reasons you come see me every night." He paused and then sighed. "This is the age of Man now, little elf. Our time in this world is coming to a close, and soon there will be nothing like you or I left here. The two of us are closer to each other because of this than we will ever be to them. You know this, I know this. And that is why you come here each night, and why we torment each other. Our little confidences to each other are all that we have left."  
  
With a sudden lunge, Davyn threw himself against the bars, hand flailing at the blue stone that glowed softly at Legolas' throat. Legolas leaned back out of reach and shook his head sadly.  
  
The mage tried for a moment more and then straightened. "I had to try." His voice was smooth reason again.  
  
The elf smiled despite his best instincts. "I know." Without another word, he turned and left the small shed. Once again, there would be no rest tonight.  
  
  
  
Dawn broke the next morn and found Legolas sitting by the fire. His eyes stared blankly into the ashes as his fingers traced the whorls and knots of the collar around his neck. It was in this position that Clotild and Lanelese found him, the same as he was when they left him the night before. They looked at each other with some concern and then Clotild cleared her throat.  
  
He pulled himself from his thoughts and then turned to Clotild. "Davyn takes exception to the choice of reading material he has been provided. He asks if you can find him something more palatable than the adventures of some woman's heaving bosoms."  
  
Clotild smiled evilly. "I have just the thing for him, Lady. I chanced upon a fascinating dissertation on cheese making from the second age when I was cleaning out the back of the librarian's office. Surely a few pages of that will make him regret complaining about Lanelese's choice in reading materials."  
  
Lanelese gave only an offended sniff in response. In her mind her taste in anything was beyond reproach. If anything, the fault was with the receiver and never with her. With another offended sniff, she passed a small note to Legolas.  
  
Eyebrow up in curiosity, the elf slowly turned the note to see the wax seal. His eyes widened at the sight of the royal seal of Gondor and he stiffened. He passed the note back to Lanelese as if it burned his skin. "Open it and read it to me, please." He looked up and noticed the shocked expression on her face. "I like the sound of your voice. Please, just read it."  
  
Lanelese glanced at Clotild again. The two of them had become used to the fact that Legolas wanted as little to do with the king as possible. And how could they place any blame for that, really? But to not even accept what was obviously a private note? And then to ask that one of them read it? But then, her voice was melodious, even she had to admit.  
  
With a delicate look of disapproval, Lanelese broke the seal on the letter and scanned the contents quickly. She gave a sigh of relief and then announced, "It appears we have a new maid of honor joining our household. You have been requested, read ordered, to take on Disa, daughter of Lord Kelsig as a maid of your chamber. She will be here tonight. He says that he will discuss his reasons with you privately later today."  
  
Legolas felt his eyebrow climb even higher. "Disa? But I thought…"  
  
Clotild nodded. "I thought so too. All indications point to her."  
  
"Perhaps they wish her to pick up some unbecoming habits so that she is no longer suitable." Lanelese chimed in with an evil smile.  
  
"Well, I can think of no better place for that than here, Ladies." Legolas smiled. "Speaking of which, where are my pants? The day is young, but it waits for no one."  
  
  
  
Legolas furrowed his brow in concentration. Pull, exhale, release. The string sang and the arrow flew towards the target and landed with a dull thud in the center. He finally allowed himself to smile grimly.  
  
"Nice." He credited himself that he did not jump when Aragorn spoke. His concentration had been so deep that he had not heard the approach of the king.  
  
With a nod to the target, Aragorn continued. "I see you've been working on your stance and balance." The king was dressed in old dark tunic and leggings, and carried his old bow. Several yards behind him, two young pages in royal livery stood and waited. Legolas looked from the king to the pages and pondered whether a rapid exit would be in order. It was too easy to fall into the old patterns of friendship and acceptance. The less he saw of his old friend, the less the temptation.  
  
Aragorn strung his bow and talked softly as he adjusted his bracers. "I came out here because we could talk without being overheard." He pulled the bowstring back to his cheek, testing the feel of the wood. "Did you get my note?"  
  
Legolas nocked another arrow and slowly drew back, taking careful aim at the target. "Yes." He said the single word and then released the arrow which flew at a satisfyingly straight angle. "I understand that your future wife is to be moved into my household, such as it is. I don't understand why."  
  
The king winced. "If I have any say in it, she will not be my wife. Have you met Disa?" The king pulled out an arrow and carefully inspected the fletching.  
  
"No. I seem to recall most of my time spent in Minas Tirith has been of a solitary sort. I didn't get out much." Legolas stepped back from the line, waiting for Aragorn to shoot.  
  
"Disa is as dull as the dagger you tried to kill me with on our wedding night." Aragorn's string sang as his arrow flew towards the target. Bullseye, but to the right.  
  
Legolas winced. That was dull. Very dull. "And?" He stepped forward to the firing line and nocked another arrow.  
  
"She's very young, not very smart, and has been raised as a 'proper' woman." Aragorn stepped back to watch Legolas shoot. "I'm not fond of 'proper' women."  
  
The elf took another deep breath and drew the bow, ignoring the sting of muscles in his shoulders. "This does not answer why she is now in my care." With smooth exhalation, he released the string. Left again. He was getting tired.  
  
"Disa is also part of a very influential family that has made many enemies. Gilby has uncovered threads of a plot to kill the poor girl before she ever becomes a serious contender for Queen, which I personally don't want her as."  
  
Legolas snorted under his breath. At the sound, Aragorn continued as he made a show of carefully choosing his next arrow. "Arnlaug favors her because her father is a friend of his. The common thought is that her father can use her as a conduit to me, and gain prominence for himself and others of his family using her influence. That would make him more powerful than his rivals, and his rivals do not want that." He nocked his arrow and smoothly drew his bow, and then looked sideways at the elf. "Do you think you might want to try shooting with a lighter bow until you build your strength up? I can tell that your arms are tired." He turned his attention back to the target and did not see the seething look Legolas shot him. The string sang and the arrow buried itself in the center of the target.  
  
The pages clapped lightly behind them and the sound was carried by the wind.  
  
Legolas picked up his last arrow, and then bowed with a flourish to Aragorn. "I suppose I should be relieved that this is my last arrow then, Oh Great King." With ease he nocked it and stepped to the line. "So why do you tell me this, and why have you put dear dull Disa with me? If she's as you say, Lanelese and Clotild will have her in tears within moments of her arrival." Pull, exhale, release. The arrow hit center next to the king's. More applause drifted down to them.  
  
Aragorn took the remainder of his arrows and punched them into the grass, point down in a row. Shooting slowly, deliberately, one by one, he spoke. "I want to keep an eye on her. She'd be safer there than anyplace I can think of. No one will poison your food or anything you come in contact with for fear of hurting you or what you bear. Plus her father thinks it a great honor to have her serving you. Nor does he know all the scandalous things you do with him living so far out in the country." He shot his final arrow and sighed. "Ideally, the perfect solution would be to have either Arwen back or you stay. Neither of you have any connections that could offend any of the factions that I've discovered lurking here."  
  
Bow clutched in his crossed arms across his chest, Legolas asked softly, "What is it you want? After all, it is your future we're bandying about here." He wasn't quite sure why he cared what Aragorn wanted, but he did.  
  
The king sighed. "I want Arwen back." He turned saddened eyes upon the one who was once his friend.  
  
"She cannot come back, Aragorn. She has gone forever." Legolas shook his head sadly. "Once it was possible to come back and forth between there and here, but now there is no return." He turned his head towards the targets, not willing to see Aragorn's pain any longer. "After all this is done and I go, I will carry a message from you if you like. I promise that I will give it to her with my own hands. I will tell her what has passed and tell her that it was not you who did this."  
  
The king nodded. "I would like that. I know I will never know if she forgives me or not, but at least she will know why this happened." He made as if to clasp Legolas' shoulder and then stopped his hand mere inches from the elf. Legolas turned cold eyes upon the almost offending hand and then deliberately stepped towards the butts.  
  
"Wait. That's why I brought them." The king then turned to the pages and indicated the target with one hand. The smaller of the pages, a small blonde boy not more than seven years old, ran forward and across the field to collect the arrows.  
  
Legolas turned scornful eyes to the king. "Too tired to collect your own arrows?"  
  
The king smiled wickedly in response. "Not at all. I brought him for you. You waddle when you walk across the field. It's better to just send him."  
  
It was despite himself that Legolas laughed. It was so easy at times to recapture the easy feeling of friendship with this man, the easy banter between comrades. It was almost easy to forget what had passed between them. Almost.  
  
Aragorn shifted his attention to the boy still pulling arrows from the butt. "I almost forgot. I am in need of a glittering elf queen to attend a feast tonight in honor of new diplomatic and trade envoys from the east. Do you know where I could find one?"  
  
"I have absolutely no clue. Sorry." Legolas also turned his attention to the boy.  
  
"Hmmmm. I suppose I'll have to make do with you instead." The king looked sideways at the elf. "At least then I can watch you and make sure you'll eat something. You are entirely too thin."  
  
"And I suppose I will have to sit next to you and stare adoringly at you the entire meal?" Legolas jested.  
  
Aragorn thought for a moment and then replied, "No. I will settle for you not burying a knife in my chest during the main course."  
  
"I can do that."  
  
"Good. You have just enough time to get ready if you leave now and don't stop to stick pins in Davyn tonight."  
  
Legolas shook his head as he whistled for Arod. It was far too easy to fall into the old relationship.  
  
  
  
The feast proceeded with stately leisure and Legolas sipped his watered wine. The food had been excellent, and the company was even better, if it were possible. The cook, a stocky woman with a permanently reddened complexion, had set aside the finest confections and dainties for his personal consumption, and Aragorn had sat and watched intently as the elf had eaten them one by one. Finally satisfied that the mother of his child had eaten enough for one night, the king then turned to his own plate and then to the envoy on his right.  
  
Legolas looked across the hall and found Disa again. Her retinue had arrived in the beginning of the feast and the girl was escorted to a seat with the rest of Legolas' household. He had not realized how young the girl was until he saw her. She was perhaps thirteen years old, with dark brown hair and eyes. She was pretty in a human way, but her attitude was not a happy one. Even now she wore a sullen look as she sat at the table and waited to be introduced to the queen.  
  
Legolas turned his attention to the man on his left and nodded attentively. Synan was a trader who had been many places in his short (at least to Legolas' mind) life. The stories of his journeys were fascinating, and if the man had even a fraction of the influence in the merchant's arena as Legolas suspected, then the possibilities for a mutually lucrative and successful treaty were very favorable.  
  
Even though the man's robes were lush and ornate, his skin was brown and weather-beaten. His white hair and beard stood out in sharp contrast against his tan. The robes themselves were a wonder of craftsmanship, woven in such a way that the material turned one color when viewed this way, and another when viewed that way, and then heavily embroidered with pictures and symbols that told the story of his life. This was a man who was involved intimately with every aspect of his trade. He rode with the caravans, and negotiated each deal individually before turning it over to one of his many children. And he was enchanted by Legolas.  
  
"In all my travels, I have never encountered such a creature of grace and beauty as you, Majesty." His tongue was honeyed as the candied dates he had offered as a dessert for the table. Legolas allowed himself to smile at the man, turning the charms he knew he now had on him with reckless abandon. He could hear Aragorn behind him speaking of borders and maps, of treaties and embassies.  
  
"You flatter me, Synan. One would almost think that you were trying to curry favor." He knew his eyes flashed playfully at the man. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position for his lower back. It seemed the hard, straight chairs in the hall did nothing to help the pain.  
  
"Oh, but I do, Majesty. I am trying to charm a treaty right out of you." The man raised his goblet of wine and saluted the elf. "Shall we hammer out details now?"  
  
Legolas blinked in surprise and then recovered. "Is it your custom to talk of such things at such occasions?" He asked curiously.  
  
Synan laughed heartily, white teeth flashing in the dark face. "Of course, My Lady. When better? We have eaten together of each other's food. You have not poisoned me, and I have not poisoned you. What better footing to start a relationship on?"  
  
The elf threw his head back and laughed. What a telling statement about his people's customs, although it did not seem too out of keeping with the upper classes of Gondor. "And have you any objections with discussing this with one such as me?" He said, indicating himself as a female.  
  
"Lady, my wife can drive a harder bargain than I could ever dream of. I have no problems dealing with a woman." He paused and smiled. "Especially one as beautiful and charming as you."  
  
Legolas smiled back. With an apologetic nod he turned briefly to Aragorn. After a moment's hesitation, he placed a feather light touch on the back of the king's wrist to catch his attention. The grey eyes turned to him and Legolas spoke quietly in Sindarian. "What do you want from him and what are you willing to accept? What do you want to give, and what is the most you are willing to give, and how much leeway do you want to give me on any of that?"  
  
The grey eyes widened fractionally as they looked from the blonde elf to the brown man sitting down the table from him. "I want full trading relations, caravans with spices, gemstones, and raw materials. I'll take the caravans if we can get a concession to renegotiate the rest in two years. I'll offer one year without tariff or taxes, I'll give up to three. I'll provide protection within our borders. I trust you to do as you will." The man's answer was in the same language and swiftly spoken with no doubt in the skills of the elf.  
  
Legolas turned back to Synan, his eyes glittering. He could not count how many times he'd negotiated agreements with the men of Laketown and Dale for his father, and had learned to enjoy the art of the haggle. The pain in his back was soon forgotten as they began to dicker in earnest.  
  
  
  
Near the fire, the chancellor of Gondor drank sparingly of his mulled wine and watched as the feast goers mingled and socialized. His eyes kept returning to the high table where the king was in deep conversation with the new envoy. It appeared that their customs allowed them to talk business at the dinner table, something that he always considered to be crass and rude.  
  
He then looked to Legolas and saw that the elf was just as deeply immersed in conversation as the king was. Slender hands flew in gestures like birds taking wing, and high cheekbones were flushed with some unknown emotion. The dark man that Legolas was so deeply in conversation with then threw his head back and clutched his hands to his chest as if he had been mortally wounded. The elf looked singularly unimpressed and the man put his hands down in his lap with a small smile and leaned back into the fray. If anything, the conversation became even more intense.  
  
"They're negotiating a new trade agreement." Gilby's voice was quiet, smooth. "If anything, I pity the man who tangles with our elf. I would hesitate to stand in the way of such a will."  
  
"Our elf?" Arnlaug raised an eyebrow in question.  
  
Gilby moved from behind Arnlaug to smoothly drape his long limbs into the adjacent chair. With Davyn defeated the limp that had plagued him for so long has also disappeared. With a flip of hair that was still colorless by firelight, he answered. "Why shouldn't I call her that? The people openly adore her and claim her as such. Why shouldn't we?"  
  
Arnlaug knew that his expression was dubious at best. "Because SHE is not willing to be 'our elf'" Because SHE is a HE inside, and HE wishes to leave as soon as possible. For which I cannot blame him."  
  
With a languid motion, Gilby indicated the high table. "Look at that. Is it not beautiful? They are working together for common goals, each one using their skills for the good of our people. They compliment each other. They belong together." The hand then moved to indicate a small, sullen face on the other side of the hall. "I cannot believe you would support THAT over what we have now. That slip of a child will never be even a fraction of what we already have. I sincerely doubt she would ever be able to negotiate a treaty, for example."  
  
"I thought you were a traditionalist, old friend. Women aren't supposed to get involved in the workings of our government, much less negotiate with foreigners." Arnlaug made a sweeping motion with one hand.  
  
There was a soft laugh from next to him. "But as you've just pointed out, old friend, SHE is not really a woman." There was a pause and then Gilby continued. "But if we could just get her to show a touch more decorum." The pale man shifted and then leaned in closer. "But you lead me away from my point, Arnlaug. I think it is in our best interests for things to stay as they are. My people are hearing many disturbing things from many disturbing places."  
  
"Your people always hear disturbing things from disturbing places. It's their job. You wouldn't pay them if they heard only pleasant things."  
  
Gilby laughed for a moment and then went silent. "True. But when they all hear the same things from different places, I begin to give them some credence. And what they say bothers me."  
  
Arnlaug thought, his fingers drumming absently on the arm of his chair. After a long moment he shook his head. "You make it sound as though we have a choice that we don't have. Legolas has already said that he will not stay. I certainly don't see much use in trying to convince him to linger."  
  
"He won't stay. There's nothing you could offer him to make him want to stay." Valda walked up to her husband and touched his hand before sitting on his other side. "He swore to bear the heir, and he'll keep his promise. Once that is done, I doubt anything could hold him here."  
  
Gilby leaned close in and hissed to Valda. "What if the child is a girl? A female cannot be the heir. You know this."  
  
Valda leaned over her husband and hissed back to Gilby, "He swore to bear the heir. He'll keep his word."  
  
Clearing his throat, Arnlaug looked pointedly down at the two who were intently staring at each other across his stomach. His wife was the first to retreat into her own chair, turning her back to the men with a flounce. Gilby was much slower, sliding backwards smoothly into his previous position. After they had retreated, he continued. "The king will not hold his friend to that oath. You already know that."  
  
Valda turned back, arms across her chest and glared at Gilby. "What do you propose, Gilby? Would you have him locked up again, this time for the rest of our lives? Would you have the locks and bars back up and the guards still on the walls? Would you have him raped again for your satisfaction? I think we can ask for no more."  
  
The pale man half lidded his eyes and spoke softly. "I merely put forward that I think the council could be looking into ways to convince the elf to stay." He gestured towards the group at the high table, each deeply involved in their conversations. "Have you seen how he watches her? His eyes never leave her when she's in the room. He is so very careful not to touch or lay a hand on her, but you can see what it costs him from just his eyes."  
  
Arnlaug turned his eyes to the tableau at the high table and rubbed his chin, deep in thought. After a moment, he shook his head slowly. "We could try to convince the king to attempt to persuade him to stay. I think that would be a waste of time, however."  
  
Gilby nodded. "I agree. We should still try, however. There are other… avenues we could explore as well."  
  
"Gilby, you are a wonder." Valda stood up and faced the man, speaking softly so that she would not be overheard. "Do you have an infinite number of knives that you use to stab people in the back, or do you simply reuse the one that you have over and over?"  
  
The man bowed slightly from the waist. "My lady, I am a thrifty man. I find that one well honed blade serves me well, and serves my kingdom better." He smiled grimly. "My loyalty to the crown and to my realm is unswerving."  
  
Valda shook her head, fixed her husband with a meaningful look and then turned her back on the two of them. Her stride was stiff and full of purpose and her steps took her towards the young girl still waiting in the back of the hall.  
  
Gilby turned towards Arnlaug with a raised eyebrow, and the chancellor merely shrugged in response. They both turned to gaze at the high table again, this time with calculation in their eyes.  
  
After a time, Arnlaug spoke. "The king would never permit it. He is an honorable man."  
  
Shifting slightly and taking a drink of his previously forgotten wine, Gilby responded, "Sometimes I think that he has too much honor for his own good."  
  
The chancellor shook his head. "No king can ever have too much honor. Kings MUST have honor. It is essential to their character." He paused and then turned to Gilby. "But sometimes the situation calls for extreme measures, and that is what he has us for, dear friend." 


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: This is an AU, meaning Alternate Universe. I am not JRR, do not pretend to be JRR, or want to be JRR. I am simply writing in his world, borrowing a few (not all) of his characters for a completely non canon romp. I make no money off of this, have no wish to make money off of this, and am writing for my own enjoyment and for groupies that I may some day have. Heh.  
  
More to follow, am setting up for .. stuff. classified stuff. yeah. bad stuff. That's it. That's the ticket.  
  
  
  
  
  
Legolas shifted in his seat and turned his attention back to the sullen girl in front of him.  
  
Disa was quite pretty in her own way. Dark brown eyes contrasted with pale skin, and rich brown hair fell in thick waves to her waist. Her figure was still childishly slim but there was the indication that she would be a buxom woman based upon the slight curve of her hips in her tightly laced burgundy gown.  
  
The negotiations with Synan had been intense and tiring but incredibly fruitful for both the kingdom and for the merchants. It had also been incredibly enjoyable on his part. He had still worn the vestiges of a smile when he returned to his rooms and settled tiredly into a chair in front of the fire. His mood of elation and satisfaction had drained away instantaneously, and the pain in his back had returned just as quickly when he found the girl waiting for him, eyes blazing with dislike. The smile was gone as he considered the girl in front of him.  
  
The girl shifted from one foot to another, her pout deepening. Lanelese bustled in the corner of the room, preparing a bath while Clotild waited patiently to help him out of his gown.  
  
He looked down at the rich silk and then rubbed the fabric against his arm as he thought. ::I hate to admit it to myself, but this is far more comfortable than Arnlaug's leggings ever were. I simply do not like things at my waist right now.:: An impatient sigh drew his attention again and his eyes returned to the girl waiting expectantly before him. He unconsciously continued stroking the sleeve while he studied the girl again.  
  
They had gotten off to a poor start, it seemed. Disa had been insulted that she had not been immediately recognized, received and ushered up to the high table for a seat that fit her rank as Lord Kelsig's daughter. Being seated with the servants, even noble ones, had rankled her beyond belief. Valda's gentle introduction and escort to the Queen's chambers and explanation of her duties as a Maid of Honor had not eased the transition.  
  
"I apologize that I was unable to receive you immediately upon your arrival, Disa. I trust that Valda was able to answer any questions you might have?" He smiled in what he hoped was a comforting manner.  
  
The girl frowned. "You were unable to receive me because you were in deep discussion with a man. A man not your husband or of your family." The girl's voice dripped with rebuke.  
  
Legolas felt his left eyebrow climb to the middle of his forehead at this show of disrespect. "And this is wrong?"  
  
Pulling her frame even straighter, Disa answered. "My father says that a woman should not involve herself in discourse with any man except her husband and family. And even then, only at her husband's bidding."  
  
"I was involved in some rather important negotiations at the time. Again, I apologize for any insult you took from that." He shook his head. Why should he explain himself to her? "I hope you understand that my household runs on the customs of my people, which appear to be vastly different than the customs of your father's home." He noticed that Lanelese had finished with preparing the bath and was now listening intently with an air of not listening at all.  
  
"So you run a household of loose women who involve themselves in things that do not concern them, such as negotiations and politics?" The girl's stance was still aggressively straight.  
  
"In short, yes. If you do not approve, I'm sure that we can find someone to take you home to your father." Legolas sighed and slowly stood, stretching and bending, trying to get the pain in his back to subside. He then gestured to Clotild so that she could help him remove the gown. The thought of a warm bath was a welcome distraction from the girl who still looked at him with a cross of disgust and anger.  
  
Clotild's clever fingers unlaced the back of the gown and then found the area that had been paining him. Her voice was low with concern. "Your back again?"  
  
"My back still." He responded, wincing as she tried to massage the pain from the offending area. "It hasn't stopped hurting for weeks, it seems." After a moment, he shook his head and she stopped. Her attempts, no matter how well intentioned, never seemed to help.  
  
He stepped from the gown and Clotild deftly pulled it up and then tossed it to Disa. The girl staggered under the weight of the heavy material, mouth opening and closing in rage like a fish. It was obvious she hadn't expected to have to work.  
  
He stepped into the tub and sank down with another sigh, this one of relief. Lanelese knelt by his side and began to undo his intricate braids while he allowed himself to relax into the warm water.  
  
When he had first arrived, the thought of these women helping him with even the simplest actions of dressing had been embarrassing and unwanted. Now he enjoyed their attentions. He closed his eyes as Lanelese finished unbraiding and began washing his hair.  
  
The quiet was broken by Disa's next words. "What do you want me to do with THIS? I am no servant. My father would never allow this if he knew what was going on here!"  
  
Legolas opened one eye and watched as the girl threw the gown that had still been in her arms at Clotild. He closed his eye again and wished he could simply put his head under the water and hide from the entire world. Or at least the girl. "I would suggest you treat everyone here with respect, child. You may end up with them serving you when I leave in a few months." He tried to make his voice mild, but knew that he was failing miserably when he heard the sharp tone echo in the room.  
  
Disa turned and scowled down at the elf in the tub. "What kind of woman can leave behind her husband and newborn babe? My father says that a woman's duty is to serve her husband and raise his children. To leave them behind is outside of what nature intended. You are an unnatural woman to even consider such a thing!"  
  
It was a harsh and painful bark of laughter that escaped his lips. "Yes, I am an unnatural woman." His enjoyment of the bath had been ruined so he stood and allowed Lanelese to wrap him in a bath sheet. "I am the most unnatural woman you will ever know. And while you may feel free to insult me as you wish, you will not abuse the women in my household. While you were born to your nobility, they earned it at great risk to themselves. To my eyes, they are much nobler in bearing and behavior than you." As he spoke, he drew himself to his full height and coolly looked down his nose at the girl. After a moment, she shrank upon herself and looked away, cheeks red with shame.  
  
Clotild silently came forward with a nightshift, and helped pull it gently over his head while Lanelese combed his hair. After a moment, he tried again. "I go down each morning to the stables to care for my horse and to ride. If you like to ride, you may accompany me at that time. I go later to the archery fields, but I am quite sure you would not want to join me there."  
  
The girl's response was eerily quiet, her voice sad. "You do not behave as a proper woman should. Perhaps if you did the King would not make you leave him and your child behind, for that is the only reason I can see that he would let someone as beautiful as you go. If you were a proper woman, perhaps he would let you stay." There was a slight pause as if the girl was thinking. "And then I could go home to my father and mother."  
  
The elf looked around to the girl to see the anger gone from her eyes, replaced by loneliness and tears. ::I keep forgetting that I am not the only person who has had their life torn away from them.:: He reached out a hand as if to touch her when another voice, equally sad, cut through the room.  
  
"I am not making Legolas leave. If I thought she would, I would ask her to stay. But I will not stop her from leaving when she wishes, how she wishes." Aragorn stood in the doorway, a small blue jar in his hand. He shook his head at the girl and then continued. "Whether or not she is a "proper woman" is for me to determine, not for you or your father, and I will not hear you speak to her cruelly again, Disa."  
  
The change in the girl's demeanor was immediate. She curtseyed deeply and then stood still, head bowed. She would not meet the King's eyes, but instead stared at the floor near his feet. "Yes, Majesty."  
  
Aragorn surveyed the women in the room, his grey eyes taking in each one in turn. With a nod of permission from Legolas, he stepped into the room. "Please continue with your duties, Ladies. I just wish to speak to your Lady. Leave us when you have finished."  
  
He walked to the fire and inspected it for a moment. Bending down to add another log, he used the poker to prod it into what he considered perfect placement. He then turned and sat in one of the chairs before the fire, stretching his long legs and yawning. He placed the jar on the table with a soft clink.  
  
Legolas quietly came and stood behind the other chair, resting his arms across the high back. He raised his eyebrows and waited for Aragorn to speak. While he waited, he watched Lanelese showing Disa how to turn down the bed that he would once again refuse to sleep in, and summon the menservants to take the tub of water from the room. Clotild glided silently behind him and placed on the empty chair a blanket and pillow, perhaps hoping that he would take rest in front of the fire.  
  
All but a few candles and lamps were blown out. The room was shrouded in near darkness, and then the women bowed as one and led Disa from the room. Legolas could feel the corners of his lips twitching into a sad smile. The reeducation of Disa would begin as soon as the door closed. He almost felt sorry for the girl. Almost.  
  
A soft cough brought his attention back to the king, and he turned his cool gaze upon the man who sat in the chair. He attempted to make his posture relaxed but knew that there was tightness in his shoulders and neck that would be visible to knowledgeable watcher. "Well?" he prompted.  
  
Aragorn studied the elf before him. The firelight made the dark circles under his eyes even more obvious than they had been earlier. The fair face was drawn and pale, and fatigue seemed to etch small lines around the overly bright eyes. His initial intention to speak about treaties and trade faded as his concern grew. He shifted forward. "Why do you not sleep? I can understand why you would not wish to sleep in the bed. The memories must be painful for you. But why do you not sleep at all? Even elves must rest occasionally."  
  
Legolas blinked. This question was completely unforeseen on his part. He straightened and turned his attention to the logs in the fireplace. "I cannot say, Aragorn. Rest of any sort simply eludes me." He turned back to the man and shrugged in what he hoped was a casual manner.  
  
The king's brow furrowed. "I know that you do not speak the truth, my friend. You were never a good liar." The man stood slowly and then walked so that he stood face to face with the elf. The thinness of the wrists was emphasized by the cuffs of the nightshift. Unconsciously, he grasped one of the small hands and wrapped it in his own larger ones. The hand was cold and bloodless and he chafed it between his own, warming it with his own heat.  
  
Legolas made a sound of protest in the back of his throat and yanked his hand free. "Do not touch me."  
  
The man drew his own hand back as if he had been burned. "There is no shame in accepting help when offered or comfort when given, Legolas." Aragorn's voice was soft in the dark room. "I don't understand why you won't let me help you."  
  
"I know what comfort you would offer, and I want none of it." The words were harsh, bitten off, filled with deep anger. "Everything that has been done to me is unnatural. I exist in a state that I cannot bring my mind to accept except in the vaguest terms. My sole purpose for survival is returning to my true self and leaving this place forever. There is little that you could ever do to change that."  
  
The king drew himself up, eyes flashing in anger. "What is unnatural is the fact that you won't let anyone console you or aid you. You refuse to feel anything that could be good or pleasurable. Your unwillingness to accept what has happened, what is happening, and what will happen is causing you to fade and grow distant. Surely there is some way that I can help or comfort you if you will just unbend enough to accept what I offer."  
  
The elf narrowed his eyes, and they flashed brightly in the gloom. "Do you remember what you did to me? How you shamed me? How you made me enjoy what you did to me despite my struggles and pleas?" He turned to the fire again so that the king could not see the expression on his face. "You were a skilled rapist. You made this body want you, made it crave your touch, even when I knew in my mind that what you did was wrong and disgusting. And even though you are yourself again, I do not know if I could ever find it in me trust you again, or anyone for that matter."  
  
"You are going to have to trust someone again at some time. Whether it is me or another, you are going to have to allow yourself to have faith again." The king took his hand and raised it to rest a hairs breadth away from the thin shoulder, not touching but allowing the heat of his skin to make its presence known. "I swear I will never hurt you again. You may not believe me yet, but I will prove it for as long as you remain here."  
  
The blonde head did not turn to face him, and there was no response except for the slight cock of the head, as if in thought.  
  
The man sighed and tried again. "I know that your back pains you. I have brought a salve that might help. It is something that the elders use for joint ache." There was still silence and he cleared his throat and continued. "I thought I should try help you. After all, I am partially responsible for what has happened."  
  
A small snort emerged from the blonde head in front of him. The man tried to shift slightly so that he could see the face on the other side of the hair, and was rewarded when Legolas turned to look at him. "I would say that you are completely responsible for what has happened." The lips were turned up slightly in a wry smile. "Thank you. Leave it here and I will ask Clotild to apply it."  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "It must be massaged in a certain way. I would do that for you, if you allow." At Legolas' look of refusal, he continued. "Remember that I was trained in such things by my foster father, and was trained as a healer long before I ever became a king." He paused again. "Allow me to do this. It is little enough to make up for what I have done."  
  
After what seemed an eternity, Legolas nodded and then turned to sit on the floor before the fire at Aragorn's gesture of instruction.  
  
The king knelt behind the elf, grabbing the blue jar from the table as he sat. He scooped a finger through the aromatic salve and waited. After a moment, he spoke. "Legolas, this works much better when applied to your skin."  
  
The blonde head turned and a pair of blue eyes looked to him for a moment. He could see a full lip caught between white teeth and realized what this simple gesture of trust was costing his friend. A taciturn nod and then slender hands pulled the hem of the shift up to rest high on the back in front of him.  
  
The skin was pale and seemed to shine with an inner light. Aragorn smiled slightly at the sight. Goosebumps seemed to rise just from the force of his gaze. With reverent hands, he began to slowly rub the salve into the area around the spine. His smile faded into a frown when he found each vertebra prominent, each rib defined. Too thin, entirely too thin. He began to rub harder, applying pressure to the individual muscles that were in spasm. A gasp of pain was all he heard from the elf.  
  
He allowed his hands to trace the muscles and followed them to the all too slender hips. After a moments hesitation he then allowed his fingers to gently brush forward, touching where his child was. The body beneath his hands stiffened, and a soft voice called him back to his purpose. "Aragorn, that is not my back."  
  
He jumped slightly and then withdrew his hands. "No. No, it is not. But it is the cause of your pain." He then turned and drew down the pillow from the empty chair next to him. "This position is awkward for you. Lay on your side so that you're more comfortable."  
  
There was a long, deliberate pause while the elf considered this request. Then Legolas grasped the pillow and did as he was told. Aragorn could now see the profile in the light from the fire, and could see the eyes go half lidded with a combination of pain and pleasure when he started rubbing again.  
  
Legolas closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the pungent odor of the salve. The smell was green and earthy and brought to mind his home after a hard rain in spring. The feeling of sadness and yearning for home became almost overwhelming for a moment, and he felt something twist in his chest.  
  
"I am afraid." He spoke softly, barely a whisper, but Aragorn still heard him.  
  
"What?" The man was confused.  
  
"I do not sleep because I am afraid." The elf took a deep breath and continued, never taking his eyes from the glowing embers in the fireplace. "I am afraid that I will wake up and find that Davyn will have figured how to escape his prison. That he'll be gone, and I'll be trapped like this forever. Or that he'll take control of your mind again and make you into the cruel creature that you were. Or even that this is all a dream, and when I wake the bars will be on the windows and the locks on the doors. I am afraid to lose control of my reality. I am afraid to sleep."  
  
The king sat back and shook his head sadly. "You have confirmed for yourself countless times that Davyn cannot escape. I have confirmed the same thing for myself." He reached inside his tunic and brought out a leather thong with the last of Davyn's crystals. "And even if he did get away, all I would have to do is smash this and he would die instantly. There is nothing to fear from him anymore." He tried to sound soothing.  
  
"I know this in my mind, but my heart tells me something different." The blue eyes still stared blankly at the fire.  
  
Aragorn nodded slowly. "I understand." He leaned forward and put his hand firmly on the elf's swollen stomach. "After this, how can you not feel that way?" His hand remained where it was when Legolas did not protest, and a smile came to his lips when he felt a strong kick. "Have you chosen a name for the babe yet?"  
  
Legolas pushed his head deeper into the pillow. "No. The child is yours and yours to name. I would not take that from you."  
  
"The child is also yours. I would not take that from you." Reproof colored the king's tone.  
  
"I know all too well, Aragorn. I also know I will have to leave this child with you, which goes against everything that my people feel about our children. It is better that I distance myself now." The voice was telling in its flatness.  
  
"Does distancing yourself include starving the child within you?" Aragorn felt the sharp intake of breath and continued sternly. "You thought of more than yourself when you chose to bear this child, but you've forgotten that you have another to care for." He traced his hands to the ribs in explanation. "You've allowed yourself to grow distant to your own needs, but someone else relies on you. You cannot neglect yourself without neglecting him. And I cannot allow you to neglect either yourself or the little one."  
  
The elf was silent and unmoving for a long period and the man was equally silent. Finally Legolas broke the silence. "I do not like your tone, but I understand your meaning. I will consider your words carefully."  
  
With a nod Aragorn returned his hands to the back and gently stroked the sore area. He could feel the muscles relax slowly under his hands, and heard Legolas breathe a sigh of relief. He continued with gentle touches, dispelling as much pain as he could and felt the body slowly go limp under his hands. Long lashes almost to cheekbones, Legolas slept, eyes shut in exhaustion.  
  
The King of Gondor sat in the slowly dimming firelight and watched the elf sleep with an expression that reflected the conflict in his own soul. His lips barely moved as he whispered perhaps to himself, perhaps to Legolas who slumbered deeply. "I know what this takes from you, my friend. And I know that you fear what is to come." He fingered a lock of blonde hair. "I know that it will near kill you to leave the child, even if you do not realize this yourself yet. I'm sorry this happened, and yet I do not regret it near enough to not want you to stay." His face darkened. "It would be so much easier if you stayed, and I hate myself for even considering keeping you here when I know that all you want to do is leave." He shook his head again and sighed. "And I will have to force myself to let you go."  
  
The fire was dying as he pulled the blanket down from the adjacent chair and pulled it over the sleeping elf. After a moment, he lay down next to the still body and put his hand very carefully onto the pregnant stomach of his friend. The child moved under his hand and the man smiled softly into the sweet smelling blonde hair.  
  
Legolas opened his eyes slightly at the touch. The warmth of the man's body on his back eased the ache even more, and the presence of the hand did not disturb him overmuch. He closed his eyes again and slept, for once unafraid of what he would find when he woke.  
  
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When Legolas woke, he was alone and the sun was high in the sky. He lifted his head from the pillow and blinked slowly in the sunlight. His first thought was that the night before had been a dream but the scent of the man clung to his skin, subtle but still present.  
  
He frowned, pulling the blanket tightly around his shoulders. ::THAT was not supposed to happen. Even if he took no liberties, I still do not want his touch::  
  
There was a sharp knock on the door, followed by Valda's face peering into the room. "Are you awake now?" Her voice had become light and cheerful since her wedding, and today was no different. At Legolas' diffident nod, she opened the door wider to allow Disa to walk into the room. The girl balanced a tray of food and tried to walk smoothly to the small table next to Legolas. Her expression still looked as though she'd been sucking on sour fruit but he was unsure if that was because of her dislike of him or because she had to do servant's work.  
  
"My Lady," Valda began formally, "His Majesty has ordered me to inform you that you are to eat everything on this tray. I am to report back to him immediately about this. He says if you do not eat everything, he will consider that you are heartbroken from his absence and will make every effort to join you for every meal to watch you eat." The Countess smiled at Legolas' wince.  
  
"I do not like being blackmailed, Valda." Legolas tried to keep a petulant note from his voice. "I dislike you receiving so much amusement from my being blackmailed even more."  
  
Valda dimpled. "Should I prepare for his visit then?"  
  
"No!" With a furious glare, Legolas reached over and grabbed a glazed roll from the tray, tore a hunk of it off, and shoved it into his mouth. His cheeks bulged as he worked his jaws over the large piece of sweet bread in his mouth. His eyes glittered angrily as he forced the lump in his mouth to one side. "Happy?" The word was mangled and crumbs flew past his lips.  
  
Valda simply smiled as the elf paused, raised his eyebrow, looked at the roll in his hand and then chewed with more enjoyment, obviously just discovering the roll was stuffed with dried fruits and honey. She allowed herself the smile even more when Legolas began to tear off small bits and eat with real appetite.  
  
After a moment Legolas glared up at her. "Don't think this means I'm happy about this." He then picked up a wedge of cheese, brandished it at her, and then began to nibble on a corner.  
  
Valda moved to the chair and sat smoothly. "I am also to relay two requests. One is to please remain 'in character' while our foreign guests are still here." The woman then turned her head to girl who now sat at the window and looked out at the gardens below. "The other is to keep Disa with you and under your protection despite her behavior last night."  
  
Legolas unconsciously picked up a handful of plump berries and began to eat them one by one. "I don't know which request I find more offensive." He glanced to the girl and then back to Valda. "I will admit that I'm finding dresses much more comfortable right now. I cannot say the same for her presence."  
  
The Countess leaned in and spoke quietly. "Gilby will be meeting with the King this morning about her." She frowned as she spoke counselor's name but continued. "He has uncovered some disturbing information regarding a well drawn plot to remove her."  
  
Legolas sat back. "I see. And as little as I care to have her here to glare at me, I certainly do not wish her ill. Very well."  
  
Valda lifted the now empty tray. "I think you will find she is much more afraid of you than you are of her." The woman looked down at the tray and rearranged the plates there absently. "She is far from home, has been taken away from everything she knows against her will, and is unable to leave. Much like you." Valda swept from the room with a pointed look.  
  
Legolas sighed deeply and looked to the ceiling. After a long moment of contemplation he levered himself up from the floor and stretched. It was with a guilty conscience that he realized his back felt much better.  
  
He walked slowly across the room and found himself in front of the mirror. Out of long established habit, he touched fingers with the woman in the mirror and smiled in greeting.  
  
She looked thin and drawn, he decided. Aragorn was right, at least in that respect. She had not been taking care of herself. Guilt telegraphed across her features at the thought that she might have unknowingly caused harm to the child while being so absorbed in her own world. That would be unforgivable.  
  
He felt the pressure of eyes upon him and looked up to find Disa staring at him from the window seat. She surreptitiously wiped a tear from her cheek and then narrowed her eyes.  
  
They stared at each other until Legolas spoke. "When I first came here I was completely alone. She was the only person I could talk to, the only person I could trust." He indicated the mirror.  
  
Disa looked at the mirror and then back to him. "She is you, nothing more."  
  
"No." Legolas smiled. "She is the me that you see, but not the me that I am. I am much more than the woman you see in the glass." He turned back to the mirror and spoke again, this time sadly. "But I have come to accept that she is also a part of me."  
  
The girl slowly stood and then peered in the mirror from behind the elf. Her expression was one of confusion. "I don't understand."  
  
"I wouldn't expect you to. It's a long story." Legolas turned to Disa. "I need you to deliver a message for me down to the stables. Please tell them that I will not be there until later today and ask that they let Arod out into the pasture so that he will not miss me overmuch."  
  
With another lingering look into the mirror, Disa nodded and then left the room. Legolas watched her leave and then turned back to the woman. His fingertips traced on the smooth glass as he considered her there.  
  
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Aragorn looked across the pile of papers in front of him and then back up to Gilby. "You want me to do what?", he asked, incredulous. His office looked out onto the main walls of the palace and was cluttered with the detritus of his life.  
  
The pale man cleared his throat. "The complexity and number of participants in the plot that I have uncovered is staggering, My Liege. My main fear is this, and this alone. Once they eliminate this girl, another one will be chosen. Some other faction will object to the new choice and she will be eliminated as well. The only female that is currently here that would be acceptable to all involved would be the one that you currently have."  
  
"You would not be endeared to Legolas if he heard you refer to him as female." Aragorn quirked an eyebrow in amusement. That was probably an understatement, actually. "Nor would I say that I 'have' him in any definition of the word."  
  
"I am not here to endear myself to anyone, My Lord. I am here only to serve you and my kingdom." Gilby lowered his eyes in an overt gesture of respect. "And you have the elf simply by merit of her presence here."  
  
Aragorn leaned back in his chair and thought. "So you think that I have some way of convincing Legolas to stay after the child is born? I think you are sadly mistaken."  
  
Gilby walked across the room and stood at the window for a moment. He then turned back to the king who waited somewhat patiently for his next words. "She is a woman now. And women have weaknesses. Her ability to bring life into the world is her glory, but also her downfall." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then continued at a gesture from his king. "The best way to control a woman is to get her with child and keep her with child. A child at her breast, several at her feet and one in her belly will keep her busy and satisfied with her lot in life. I have done this myself with my wife and have found it most effective in quelling any untoward impulses towards freedom."  
  
The king steepled his fingers his fingers and looked at his councilor. "I sincerely doubt that "she" will let me within touching distance of her, much less assent to anything else. Nor do I think it would be a right or fitting thing to do to one who has been so wronged already."  
  
With a impatient hand gesture, Gilby brushed aside the objection. "Have you given thought to courtship? To flowery words and gifts?" He leaned forward and spoke quietly. "Or even to just coming to an agreement with her?"  
  
Aragorn laughed hoarsely. "Such things may work on the mind of a woman, but not on the mind of a male, and a warrior at that. I see no profit in expending such efforts. He will never stay after the way he has been treated, and I cannot blame him for this." He then fixed a sharp gaze on his councilor. "I know also of the quarrel you have with Kelsig. I would not like to think that one of the knives aimed at his daughter might be yours."  
  
The colorless man laughed tonelessly. "How well My Lord knows me." After a pause he continued. "I have no love for the father, but would not have anything to do with the death of the child unless I felt it would have some great impact. Even I have my standards." He bowed deeply. "I have said all I can on this issue to you. I will take my leave, but ask that you ponder my words." At the King's nod, he walked backwards and left the room.  
  
His face was grim as he walked through the halls, and few would have heard his voice if they had been close enough to hear him whisper to himself, "There are always other ways. Always." His face was creased in concentration. One avenue was blocked, but another would always be open.  
  
He paused in the hall and then found his steps turning towards the garden and the small prison that had been built there. "There are always other ways", he said again.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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	13. chapter 13

Insert disclaimer written at 4:20 AM. Don't own em. Don't wanna own em. Don't have any cash.  
  
Ugh. I hate plot bunnies that don't sleep.  
  
  
  
Legolas took the long way back from the stables. A chill breeze played in his hair as he walked in the noontime sun. Autumn was here, the harvest underway. The days were getting shorter and there was often frost on the windows in the dawn of the new day. Soon the skies would turn leaden and gray and the sun would not deign to show her face for days at a time. He was determined to enjoy the sunshine while it lasted.  
  
His steps took him near his gardens. The trees spoke to him, but sluggishly. They were preparing for their long slumber that would take them through the bitter cold of winter and into the burst of renewed life that was spring. He then walked past the small shed that housed Davyn.  
  
Arick stood outside the building, arms crossed and cudgel dangling from one hand. Legolas slowed his pace and looked a question at the large man. The guard simply shrugged and gestured with his head towards the closed door. Someone was with the mage and desired their conversation to be private. That in itself was not uncommon. Legolas often did the same thing when he and Davyn were deep in discussion.  
  
He looked at the closed door with a furrowed brow while he traced with one finger the pattern on the bow he held. Aragorn had gifted the bow to him not long ago. It was beautifully made and adorned with traceries of flowers and leaves, but it was lighter and shorter than his own. The arrows that had been gifted with it fit the bow perfectly and were fletched in black and white. Bracers and a quiver of the finest leather, intricately tooled and painted with the Queen of Gondor's personal arms completed the gift.  
  
Legolas had tried to refuse such a handsome gift but Aragorn had insisted. "Take it. It's the least I can give you, and the only gift I could think of that you would willingly accept", he had said.  
  
And he had been right. Legolas loved the artistry of the gift almost as much as he appreciated the thought that had gone into it. He had told Disa that night that he would use them for now, but put them aside for her to use when he had gone. The girl had curled her lip in disdain, a common look for her, and responded that the day she carried a weapon would be the day the elf would be a proper woman.  
  
Legolas had laughed merrily at the barb. It seemed that they were slowly coming to an understanding. She disliked him for the improper ways he behaved, and he endured her company so that she could stay alive. It was a truce that had the potential to turn into a working relationship.  
  
He forced his thoughts to return to the shed and the closed door in front of him. He had no desire to see Davyn right now, but the curiosity to know who was occupying the mage's shed was almost overwhelming.  
  
He looked again at Arick and then tilted his head towards the closed door. "Who?" The question was quietly voiced, but the guard jumped as if Legolas had shouted the question.  
  
At that moment, the door swung open silently upon its leather hinges, and Gilby emerged from the dark shelter of the shed and blinked in the bright sun. His hand moved to place something in his belt pouch. Arnlaug followed a moment later. The chancellor looked as though he'd bitten into an apple and found half a worm, but before Legolas could ask what vexed him Gilby smiled brightly.  
  
"And here is the brightest gem that shines in Gondor's crown! Good afternoon, dear Legolas. How does this day find you?" The colorless man smirked at the elf's wince.  
  
"Don't call me that, Gilby. You know how I despise that song." Legolas tried to put a jesting note into his voice, but knew that he sounded more annoyed than amused. A vision of Gilby with a black and white fletched arrow protruding from his buttocks filled the elf's eyes and was quickly pushed to the back of his mind before he made the image come to life.  
  
The thin man smiled wider. "I beg your pardon, dear lady. It slipped my mind."  
  
Legolas frowned. It was well known that nothing ever slipped Gilby's mind. The elf cocked his head. "Dear Lady?" He echoed with a dangerous tone, and then shook his head. Some battles were not worth fighting, even when he would have preferred to run into the fray. "What is it that you and Arnlaug have to discuss with Davyn? I thought neither of you had much use for him."  
  
Gilby shrugged, his face going inscrutable. "There are many pies he had his fingers in before he fell from grace. It is up to us to put things back into order and because of that we must still have contact with him. I cannot wait for the day that we are completely free of his shadow." The cold eyes glittered as he looked at the elf and then his voice changed, cheery once again. "The harvest season is almost gone." In a brazen gesture, he patted Legolas' stomach. "Think you that we will soon see the fruit of your womb, Lady?"  
  
Body stiff, Legolas leaned away from the touch as Arnlaug made a noise of disgust and batted the man's hand away. "Leave off your teasing, Gilby."  
  
The chancellor turned tired eyes to Legolas. He noted the flushed cheeks and flashing eyes. "Forgive him, Legolas. He forgets himself in his feeble attempt at humor." He glared at Gilby as he spoke, causing the pale man to break his gaze and look to the ground.  
  
Gilby's voice was subdued. "I apologize, Legolas. I was taken by the high spirits of the day and my tongue ran ahead of my mind. I lost all good sense. Forgive me."  
  
The elf pinned the man with a suspicious look and remained silent. It was also well known that Gilby did not get taken with high spirits or lose good sense. The man did nothing without a well calculated plan. After a moment, Legolas gave a nod acknowledging the apology.  
  
Arnlaug cleared his throat and continued. "I think what my colleague was trying to say was that we hope the child will be here soon. We know that you cannot be very comfortable as you are now."  
  
Legolas nodded slowly, eyes not leaving Gilby. "I understand and thank you for your concern. I have found that my temper has been short and unforgiving these past weeks. I fear that I take offense too easily at times."  
  
Arnlaug smiled, his strong face wreathed in wrinkles. With one hand he easily grasped one of Legolas' smaller hands and wrapped it around his arm. "I understand that it is so with all who are in this condition. I take no insult at your offense." He laughed at his own small joke, his chuckle deep in his chest. He started walking towards the palace, leading the elf slowly as he did.  
  
The tension broken, Legolas laughed as well and allowed the man to lead him. Gilby silently shadowed their steps, almost wraithlike, colorless even in the brightest sunlight.  
  
After a few moments Arnlaug spoke again. "I understand that Synan's caravan has been sighted a few miles from the city. I expect he will be here before nightfall." The man patted the hand on his arm with an indulgent air. "I wager that he has brought more of those honeyed dates that you've taken such a liking to."  
  
Legolas smiled coyly. The ravenous appetite that had been coaxed forward by a concerted effort from Valda and Aragorn had yet to recede. His passion for sweets had become legendary after the last time he'd sent Lanelese down to the kitchens during the small hours for something. anything. sweet. The cook had been roused at an unnatural hour by the clatter of the maid, clad only in her nightshift, searching desperately for anything that would appease the desperate elf. Luckily, the cook was able to produce some honey cakes that had stopped the overwhelming craving temporarily-until the next night. "Perhaps it is better for me if he does not have dates, Arnlaug. Every time that I think my stomach could not grow any bigger, it does."  
  
The man surveyed the elf with a curious eye. Legolas had gained flesh in the past weeks and was no longer painfully thin, but could not be called plump in any sense of the word. If anything, the figure could be called slender except for the large bulge that had expanded across the middle of the small frame. He suspected that the stomach would grow still larger, but did nothing but give a fatherly smile and pat the hand again. "Perhaps you would like to ride down with us to greet Synan when he arrives. I recall he was quite fond of you and would no doubt enjoy seeing you again."  
  
Gilby piped up. "He was most fond of you, Legolas, and my sources say he speaks very highly of you to all he meets." The thin man turned his head to regard the sky as they approached the great hall. "It is a good thing that you are here. Gondor's reputation is increased by your presence." He looked back down and smiled cryptically at the elf, and then turned from the searching look he received in return.  
  
And when they reached the door and parted ways Legolas wrinkled his brow as he realized that they had never answered his question about Davyn.  
  
The two men continued onto an empty hall, and stopped to speak in hushed voices. Arnlaug's fatherly smile had turned back into a grimace. "I like this not, Gilby." Arnlaug shook his head to emphasize just how much he didn't like it. "Have you forgotten how dangerous that damned mage is now that your leg no longer pains you? And you tipped your hand too soon with Legolas. He suspects you of something. I didn't think you to be a fool."  
  
The thin man leaned forward and flicked an imaginary speck of lint from the Chancellor's tunic. "I've forgotten nothing." Gilby looked around the empty stone hall again. Still deserted. "Let us just call it a measure of last resort. Something we had to turn to when all other options were gone. As for Legolas, she can suspect all she wants, but by the time she realizes our plans, it will be too late." He smiled slyly. "It makes the game more interesting when the opponent is suspicious."  
  
"I still don't like it. Gives me a bad taste in my mouth to even consider dealing with that snake again. He almost killed me last time. I suppose that being almost lamed wasn't nearly as traumatic for you as being almost dead was for me." The large man pursed his lips in a grimace. "And I don't like deceiving the little elf. It's not as if he hasn't been through enough already."  
  
Gilby shrugged. "How horrible can it be to be the Queen of one of the most powerful realms in the world? What great hardship will she endure except to lay with her husband, be waited on hand and foot and be mother to kings?" The thin man smiled an icy smile and pulled a small glass vial from his pouch. "Davyn can be very efficient when given the correct materials and motivations. A few drops of this a day in her food and we will have a docile and biddable woman in the place of the one we have now. "  
  
Arnlaug took the vial from Gilby's skeletal hand and held it up the light. The fluid within was clear and colorless. He pulled the stopper and sniffed it suspiciously. Odorless as well. He replaced the cork and handed it back to his counterpart. "And how do you propose to get the elf to take this? Her staff is loyal. I shudder to think that my wife would find out about this plan of yours."  
  
Gilby smiled grimly. "Let me handle that. It's better if you don't know my methods. When your wife interrogates you, you'll be unable to betray me or my agent." He palmed the small bottle and then checked the position of the sun against the wall. "I need to go make arrangements now, in fact." With a half salute, he began to trot down the hall.  
  
Arnlaug looked after the man and then turned the other way. A scowl covered his face and was remarked upon by many who saw and avoided him in the corridors.  
  
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Disa waited in the stillroom, her fingers folding a small piece of parchment first this way, then that. She jumped at the sound of a footfall in the hall outside, and then visibly relaxed when they continued away from her. She looked around the room again, noting that the room was stuffed with herbs and roots.  
  
Swags of freshly harvested herbs hung from the ceiling, set there to dry and keep their potency. High windows allowed light in to illuminate bottles of powders and roots that lined the shelves on each wall, and barrels of different concoctions and infusions that were carefully stacked in the corners. A large worktable sat next to her, the wood surface scrubbed until it was almost white. A large scale and set of measures sat squarely in the middle of the table. The scent of the room was woodsy and green, yet made her nose itch all the same.  
  
Her mother had taught her the art of making basic medicines, as all noble women should know. She might be called upon as Lady of her Manor to soothe a child's fever with willowbark, or to ease an infection with a special poultice of moss, or even to ease a brave warrior's passage from this world with an infusion of poppy and strong spirits. It would be her duty to do so and she would rise to it. She thought to herself that she could heal the entire world with a stillroom like this.  
  
The palms of her hands and fingers were blotchy and blackened. Her constant worrying of the parchment had removed all traces of ink from the vellum and deposited it upon her sweaty fingers. There would be no trace of the message left for any unwelcome eyes.  
  
Footsteps sounded again in the corridor and she raised large eyes to the door and held her breath as it opened deliberately, admitted a shadow into the dim room, and then closed tightly.  
  
Gilby moved into a shaft of sunlight from the high window and looked down at the girl. Her eyes grew wide, and then she looked modestly down at her feet and curtseyed. "My Lord Councilor." She bowed her head.  
  
The man allowed one side of his mouth to twitch in grudging approval. The girl certainly was well behaved; he had to give her that. No matter what else her father had done, he had raised her well. "Greetings, child. I see you received my message."  
  
"Yes, my lord." The eyes did not waver from the floor. The girl radiated proper modesty and respect.  
  
Gilby leaned against the worktable at his side. "I know that you miss your parents, child. I know that you wish to go home."  
  
The small shoulders shook for a moment, as if holding back a sob. "Yes, my lord."  
  
The man continued. "I know that you weep yourself to sleep each night. I know that you look out the windows and wish to see the rolling hills of your home and only see stone walls. I know that you miss your nurse and your sisters." Now the girl looked slowly up to him. Her brown eyes were large and glistened with tears. "Do you want to be queen, Disa?" His question shocked the girl, for she openly stared at him.  
  
"No, my lord." Her eyes met his for a moment, and then she dropped them again, as was proper.  
  
"Good. I don't want you to be queen either. I'm glad we're in agreement."  
  
Disa looked at the man's chest, finding the pattern of woven cloth fascinating. "Are you going to kill me now, my lord?" She raised her eyes again to the pale face in front of her.  
  
Gilby raised an eyebrow. "Why on earth would you think that, child?"  
  
This time she maintained eye contact. "My father raised me to be a proper woman, my lord. He did not raise me to be stupid. I have overheard enough conversations to know that you and many others bear no love for my father. I've also heard enough to know that many would prefer me dead than queen. I would hazard to guess that you would be among them. My father says that you are no more to be trusted than a venomous snake." She paused and then lowered her eyes. "It is my duty as his obedient daughter to believe him in all things, especially that."  
  
A bark of laughter escaped Gilby's lips. "Brilliant. So, you are not as dull as they say. Brilliant ruse, my dear, hiding in plain sight." His was a genuine smile now. "Deadly is the enemy who convinces her foe to underestimate her." He straightened and reached into his belt pouch. "I think we can work together to find a way to get you home to your family, my dear."  
  
The glass bottle made a small clink as he placed it on the worktable. Disa furrowed her brow as she looked at it and then glanced back up to the tall man, eyes narrowed. "What is it, my lord?"  
  
"A few drops a day in her food or drink. Start today."  
  
There was a pause. "I will not poison her."  
  
Gilby grimaced. "It isn't poison. It's simply something to pacify her and keep her here."  
  
Disa stared at the bottle. "Will it harm the child?"  
  
"You ask too many questions." The man ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "No. It won't hurt her. It won't hurt the child. The one who made this knows what will befall him if there is any harm either of them. We simply want her docile and controllable." He looked at the girl again, and she met his eyes boldly. "And once we have her controlled, you will be able to return home to your family. Is that such a bad bargain, Disa?"  
  
Dust motes danced in the shaft of sunlight that shone down upon them. It seemed to Gilby that the square of light that the shaft left on the worktable inched slowly forward while the girl considered his statement. He turned away to examine a shelf and the jars upon it. A slight scrape, and the squeak of the door opening was heard, and he turned to find himself alone in the room and the glass bottle gone.  
  
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The tea was hot and sweet, just the way he liked it. The taste of honey overwhelmed all the other flavors and almost made his teeth hurt. That was a good thing, Legolas decided. The need for sweetness was a hunger that was easily filled, unlike his craving of the other day for nutbread and spiced butter. He was quite sure that Cook would be tearing her hair out in frustration soon enough. He could barely keep up with what his body spontaneously demanded, much less predict it.  
  
He sipped his tea and watched as Disa cleaned took away the teapot and cleaned up after herself. ::The girl makes good tea. I'll give her that. It almost makes it worth all the arguments.:: Legolas leaned back in the chair and then continued to Valda. "Your husband told me that Synan and his first caravan have been spotted. I want to ride down to greet him when they get here."  
  
Valda nodded. "Perhaps he'll have some of those exotic fabrics that he was wearing last time he was here." The Countess paused in thought. "And maybe some of those dates you've become so fond of."  
  
Laughter bubbled from between his lips. "Yes. And perhaps some dates." He smiled at her confusion. "Your husband said the same thing earlier today." He sobered again. "I encountered him in the gardens at Davyn's shack along with Gilby."  
  
The Countess cocked her head. "Really? I wonder why?." Her face said that she could give a few guesses why, and none of them were pleasant to conceive.  
  
"I don't know. I asked them and they managed to change the subject so well I didn't even notice they failed to answer me before they left." He sipped his tea again. "I think they're up to something. Or at least Gilby. Valar help us all."  
  
"Gilby is man who puts the welfare of the kingdom as his only concern." The words seemed to be dragged out of her mouth, they came so slowly. "He sometimes forgets the cost of what he does on a personal level." She looked as though she wanted to say more, but then shook her head. "I will talk to Arnlaug tonight and see what mischief they've started."  
  
The elf nodded and then leaned forward to place his now empty mug on the table as Valda swept from the room. Pleasant warmth filled his limbs and his attention was drawn to the leaping flames in the fireplace.  
  
It was in this state that Disa found him much later. The blue eyes were unfocused, as if in elven sleep. "Are you awake?" Her whisper was barely audible, but Legolas turned slowly at the sound of her voice and nodded distantly. Guilt filled her mouth with a bitter taste that she swallowed quickly down. "It's time to get dressed. You wanted to ride down to see the caravan."  
  
Legolas nodded again in slow motion and allowed Disa to help him from the chair and to the mirror to dress. Ill fitting tunic and leggings were stripped from his unresisting body and a cream colored gown was pulled over his head and laced up the back. During this process the woman in the mirror caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes as he watched her. She was trying to tell him something. Her eyes kept straying to the table. Her hand would slowly rise and point to the mug on the table. He swallowed with difficulty. It was hard to think. hard to put two thoughts together. The feel of a brush in his hair distracted him even more. His eyes drifted again to the empty mug. There was something there that bothered him.  
  
Disa came to stand to one side of him and gently touched Legolas' stomach. Her voice was barely audible but Legolas heard her clearly. "You will be happy here."  
  
He blinked in confusion. Surely he wasn't happy. He remembered very clearly that he wasn't happy. Or did he? He looked again in the mirror, at the image of the woman there who kept trying to tell him something so very important. He turned his eyes again to Disa. "I will be happy here?"  
  
The girl blinked in surprise. "Yes. You will be happy here."  
  
He returned his gaze to the mirror. The woman there seemed to have a life of her own, silently screaming, silently telling him something of great importance that he could not hear. His attention was drawn from her when Disa spoke again.  
  
"You will love your husband, and he will love you, and you will be happy here." The words had a sing song cadence and were almost hypnotic.  
  
Legolas blinked. The woman in the mirror screamed at him again, tears running down her face. Her words bounced off her side of the glass to fall down around her feet in her reversed world. There was something there. Some thing so wrong with what the girl said, but he was unable to think of what it was.  
  
With a tug on his arm Disa drew him away from the mirror. He kept his eyes on the woman there as she threw her body forward and beat her small fists on the glass. And then Legolas was around the door and unable to see her anymore.  
  
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The air was chill when they stepped outside and for a moment it helped Legolas gain his thoughts. He paused on the steps and looked for Arod in the confusing mass of horses and men that were milling around impatiently. Gilby materialized next to his arm, grasped it gently and then led him through the courtyard to where Aragorn waited on his stallion.  
  
Legolas pulled back for a moment and looked about him in confusion. "Arod?" He could not see or hear his beloved horse.  
  
The councilor tightened his grip and steered Legolas forward. "Not today. Today you ride with the king."  
  
His confusion was increased when the man turned him and lifted him up like a doll onto the back of the tall horse. Aragorn was equally surprised when he had to grab the elf around the waist and steady him in front of the saddle. His touch was unasked for, but Legolas did not protest.  
  
Legolas automatically tried to swing his leg over the neck of the horse to have a proper seat, but was stopped when Gilby grabbed his leg and held it still. "Not today. Today you ride like a modest woman." The man drew the skirts down to hide pale legs and ankles and then smiled up at the king as Aragorn helped steady the elf into a more comfortable position. Aragorn looked down at his councilor and frowned. Something was wrong. Legolas would never allow himself to be treated this way by anyone, much less Gilby.  
  
The procession left the courtyard and Legolas allowed himself to lean back into the man behind him. A festival atmosphere filled the air, in between the harvest and the arrival of the caravan, but Legolas was lost in his thoughts. :: This is wrong. This should not be. But why is this wrong?::  
  
The arms around his waist held him safe and steady in an otherwise unfamiliar riding posture, but there was something wrong with that as well. He furrowed his brow and tried to collect his thoughts. If only he'd been able to hear the woman in the mirror when she had warned him.  
  
He finally turned his head to look into the face above him, tilting his head to do so. Grey eyes bore deeply into his own and words sang in his mind again. ::You will love your husband and he will love you, and you will be happy here.:: :::NO. NO. NO. This is not right. I do not want this.:: The grey eyes narrowed and then a pair of lips fell to his neck to nuzzle tenderly there. A moan escaped his lips and his eyes lidded. A hand freed itself from his waist and worked its way almost onto the juncture of his thighs, and he arched his back into the man behind him. Inside his mind he could faintly hear the woman in the mirror screaming, but she was far away and faint, her words indiscernible.  
  
The man behind him stiffened and bellowed his voice deep and rough with anger. "GILBY!"  
  
Legolas allowed his head to loll into Aragorn's neck. He leaned up against the warm body and drowsed as he listened to the two men.  
  
The thin man rode up next to king, and they rode stirrup to stirrup. "My lord."  
  
Aragorn gestured at the limp body in his arms. "What did you do? She should be feasting on my liver at this point."  
  
The councilor leaned forward. "Isn't this what you want? You want her to be loving and obedient. You want her to stay with you."  
  
The king ground his teeth. "Not. Like. This." With a calming breath, he continued. "Never like this. Only if she chooses of her own free will."  
  
"But my lord, consider the alternatives. If we allow her free will, she will leave us forever." Gilby gestured towards the gates ahead. "This way she'll always be happy and she'll always love you."  
  
Shaking his head again, Aragorn sighed. "If you do this again, I will send her away myself. I don't care how you did it, I don't care who you got to do it, but it stops and it stops now. I've sworn to let her go when the time comes, and I will not have you argue with me on this. Now get out of my sight."  
  
Chastised and humiliated, Gilby left the side of his king and rode on. His face was blank, but his eyes were still calculating. He was not a man to give up easily. 


	14. chapter 14

Notes:  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own OC's who keep crawling out of my head at an amazing pace. I like them. But I am a sick person, so there's really no accounting for taste.  
  
Sorry about the delay. Real life again. Bastards. Some day I'll win $50 million in the Florida Lottery and then be able to do whatever I want, whenever I want.  
  
And can I just say that I have the BEST reviewers. I like reviewers who ask me questions, who make me think, who point out things I need to address. Of course, I like reviewers who think I'm perfect too, but there's nothing like the feeling of beating your head on your desk when someone points out a plothole someone could drive a semi through. It's a pleasant kind of pain, really it is. Yes, Gimli will be in this eventually. No one else from cannon, though. Some questions answered in this chapter, some in later ones.  
  
I'll tell you a secret. I really don't like writing with canon characters. I actually prefer to write original works. That said, I've had this damned story in my head for months, and I'm completely blocked until I birth it. So here it is. Sorry about the lack of canon characters, but short of Gimli, that isn't going to change.  
  
Recommended reads..Anything by CNell. Just trust me on this. She's great.  
  
The Orc Within the Elf by Jade. Amazing in its originality and its sheer scope, as well as its overwhelming cruelty. Love it.  
  
The Faerie Goblet by Nebride. Love her stuff.  
  
As always, Dark Leaf by Jastaelf, and The Hunting Trip by Ithilien. Anything by Treehugger, but especially In the Hall of the Wood Elf King as well as it's follow up Once Upon a Time in Hollin.  
  
Next chapter will start moving things along at a rapid pace. After all, babies wait for no one and come whenever they want.  
  
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Aragorn watched the elf sleep. It had been easy enough to plead fatigue on Legolas' part and escape the celebration in the lower city. From there it had been a simple matter of riding back to the palace and leading the compliant elf back to her chambers. She obeyed him without question, even when he had laid her on the bed that she avoided at all costs when she was herself.  
  
He smoothed the golden hair from her face in a tender gesture that would have triggered a killing rage at any other time and then said simply, "Sleep". Her surrender to slumber had been immediate. While such obedience would have warmed the cockles of Gilby's heart, it sickened the King and his lip had curled in disgust at what had been done to the elf.  
  
He had then pulled a chair up next to the bed so that he could sit and ponder his next move as the night moved into day.  
  
Legolas furrowed his brow in his sleep. His dreams had led him to happier times spent wandering with Gimli through the forests of Ithilien. But now there was a weight on his stomach, a heavy weight that seemed to bear him down. Perhaps Gimli had shifted in his sleep and ended up leaning against him. He had done that before, and nothing short of physical violence had dislodged the heavy creature. "Stupid dwarf", Legolas grumbled as he put his hand down to push the offending body part from his abdomen and then paused when he found nothing there except his own stomach. His eyes slowly focused and found above them the black and silver canopy.  
  
His breath died in his lungs. ::No. No. Not again.:: His eyes widened in panic as he began to gasp in fear. He writhed against the deep mattress of the featherbed, thrashing frantically to escape the deep cushion he was on before he realized that he was alone in the bed. ::No creature is here to hold me down.:: He then looked wryly down at his stomach. ::Indeed, no one needs to hold me down right now. The little one does that well enough on its own.:: He panted heavily from the exertion before he raised his eyes to the curtain. What would he see on the other side?  
  
With a series of graceless twists and a great thrashing, he finally worked his way to the edge of the bed and then opened the bed curtains. He moved to sit on the edge, his legs dangling in the chill air as he peered around the room  
  
The room was still and he could hear the rasping sounds of his own breath as he tried to calm the beating of his heart. There was no shadow of bars in the window, no lock on the door. His greatest fears had not come to pass. He could feel the tension drain from him, almost as if it were running down his legs to drip off of his feet and onto the cold floor.  
  
He exhaled his terrors into the cold room and watched as his breath frosted, hung before him and then evaporated into the sunlight, taking with it the last of the overwhelming sense of panic. The fears that had overwhelmed him for weeks were gone. Shoulders slumped with relief, he turned to see the man who watched him without a sound.  
  
Aragorn's eyes were weary, as if he had not slept at all the night before. Dark hair fell into his face in a rumpled wave and stubble shadowed his square chin. The grey eyes narrowed as he looked closely at the elf. "Are you. yourself again?" The voice was tired, the words slow.  
  
Legolas thought the question rather odd. "What else would I be?" The ravenous hunger he suddenly felt made his tone sharp.  
  
The man laughed quietly, his question answered with that one sentence. "You would be something like you were yesterday. Do you not remember?" He stretched, the bones in his spine popping.  
  
The elf cocked his head and closed his eyes in thought. "I remember little. I was trapped in my mind, unable to speak, unable to move except as I was directed. Beyond that." His mouth turned down into a horrified expression as he turned wide eyes back to the man in the chair. "You made him stop. I heard you." There was another pause. "Is that what it was like when you were held by Davyn?"  
  
Wincing, Aragorn leaned forward and put his hand out as if to comfortingly pat a knee, but Legolas recoiled away from the touch. After holding his hand out for a moment more, the man drew it back into himself and crossed his arms. "Perhaps. Perhaps more than that. There are no words to explain what I felt." He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward again, this time placing elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his hands. "Tell me this. Gilby said you would be happy that way. Were you?"  
  
There was a slight hesitation before Legolas spoke. "I don't know. I don't recall feeling much of anything, glad or otherwise. It was as if I were wrapped in cotton and unable to respond to the world. I doubt that I would be happy like that." He paused again before he continued. "So that is what Gilby was up to? How. direct. of him. I didn't expect that." He turned his attention to his hands in his lap.  
  
Aragorn leaned back again. "Yes. Very direct of him. It appears that Gilby has taken into his mind that you are entirely too good for our fair kingdom to simply let go."  
  
The elf looked up again and into the king's eyes. "And you feel?" Legolas was surprised how dry his mouth had become at the question. ::Surely this is something left over from the drug, not from fear of what he will say::  
  
"It matters not what I feel. What is important is doing what is right." Grey eyes met blue and did not waver. "I will not force you to stay. I will not take advantage of you again. And while I am. fond. of your company, I understand that you want nothing to do with me."  
  
Legolas absently brushed a strand of hair from his face. "I'm glad you understand that. While I may be more tolerant of your kind than my father was, the charm that I found in humans has worn very thin. You would not like it if I were forced to stay." He leaned forward and placed his bare feet on the floor, the cold from the stone working its way into his bones and making them ache. He hopped across the freezing floor to the fireplace, burying his feet in the warm rug in front of the hearth. His brow furrowed with puzzlement. Cold had never affected him to that extent before. He shook the stray thought from his mind and then turned back to the man who watched him from next to the bed. "What are you going to do? Remove Gilby?"  
  
"No. I can't remove him. He's entirely too powerful." Aragorn spoke the words he had been thinking to himself all night. "His agents are everywhere, even in your own household, it seems. It will take something less obvious then removing him to have any effect."  
  
"I think that he takes the good of your kingdom too closely to his own heart. I would wonder what he would do if he thinks that you are no longer good for your own realm." The elf had turned to place wood on the fire and did not see the speculative look that passed across the king's face.  
  
"I would not be surprised at all, dear Greenleaf, if that is what he was thinking right now. I would almost be willing to wager on it." The tone was grim.  
  
Legolas turned back, his face drawn into an expression of tight anger. "Don't call me that." He took a deep breath and continued. "What shall we do about this?"  
  
"My apologies. You shall do nothing. You have enough to think of right now." Aragorn looked down, unable to meet Legolas' gaze. "Oh, fear not. I have been caught before in someone's web of deceit and I did not like it one bit. I will not allow that to happen again. I have resources at my disposal as well." The man shifted and looked at the elf who had drawn himself up to stare back at him. "You stand there, so straight and disapproving. I can tell you want to look imposing and grim as only a deadly Elven warrior can, yet you seem to me to be mildly annoyed and somewhat uncomfortable." His voice was gentle as he made his jest.  
  
The elf shook his head sharply. "You forget yourself, King of Gondor, and you forget who I am." His voice seethed with anger. "I am beyond sick of being here. I am beyond sick of your jests and surreptitious glances when you think I am not looking. I am positively ill with doing the best for your beloved kingdom. I cannot bear to be here another moment yet I am bound here, might I add practically immobile with the result of your heinous assaults upon this body that you forced upon me! Of course I'm 'mildly annoyed and uncomfortable' with the very sight of you!" The last sentence was almost shrieked, and a delicate hand moved aimlessly upon the mantel until it encountered a fine, eggshell thin porcelain vase that normally resided on the table filled with flowers from the gardens. The long fingers gripped the vase with a white knuckled grip.  
  
The King stood and yawned deliberately. "I don't think you mean that. I think you've been taken with a woman's vapors, as is common at this time."  
  
There was an almost whistling noise as the vase became airborne at a high rate of speed, and then an almost silent popping sound as it hit the King in the temple and seemed to shatter from within. The pieces held together in their shape for a moment, as if trying through sheer force of will to not break before falling down to the floor in a musical rain of sharp edged snowflakes. The King swayed for a moment, a small trickle of blood slowly making its way down his forehead, and then sat down heavily in his chair. He shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs from his mind, and then blinked and pulled his face into a look of anger. "What was that for?"  
  
Jaw set into a firm line, Legolas started gasping in sheer unnamed emotion that swept over him and washed away all reason. "What was that for? Have you no idea what you do?" He gasped, pulling air into burning lungs and then looked at the shards on the ground. Sadness then rose up and tears burned his eyes. "I liked that vase! That was possibly one of my favorite things in this room, and you made me break it!"  
  
Aragorn simply remained silent. That appeared to be the best strategy at this moment. It wasn't every day that he was confronted with an almost incoherent elf with deadly aim and a mantel that still contained several items waiting to take wing and cause him more injury.  
  
"Well! What are you waiting for?" The musical voice was now sharp and shrewish and had the Man strongly reconsidering his strong feelings of attraction for the near murderous creature in front of him. "Clean up the mess you made me make! I certainly can't bend over to get it!" Legolas grabbed a cloak that had been resting across one of the chairs and his shoes. "And don't bleed on anything. I'm going to the stables. Maybe I'll let you live when I come back."  
  
The Man slowly reached down and began to pick up shards. He feared the penalty for disobedience.  
  
  
  
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  
  
The day had grown progressively colder, low grey clouds rolling in to obscure the sun and block what little warmth it gave. The elf shrugged the heavy wool cloak tighter around his frame as he quickly crossed the courtyard from the stables to the shed in the garden. The wind had picked up as well, cutting like sharp knives through wool and linen and through flesh and bone beneath, even elven flesh and bone.  
  
The elf paused, shivering in the wind to listen to the trees and plants in the gardens but heard nothing but the faintest murmur. The trees had entered their long slumber for the season and the lesser plants had died or retreated beneath the earth to hide from the cruel cold. Winter had come to Minas Tirith in the span of less than a day.  
  
He crossed the garden, his legs moving too quickly to have any real grace as they propelled him to the shelter of the small shed and the warmth that it held. With a final burst of speed, he scurried to the side of the building and through the heavy wooden door, opening it up only wide enough to squeeze through and then closing it behind him again tightly.  
  
The room inside was almost hot in comparison to outside. Legolas was glad of that. He nodded to Arick and then took the cloak off and hung it next to the door. Braziers stood near the wooden bars, still out of reach to the mage within, but close enough to radiate heat into the cell. The thick stone walls with their wooden panels acted as insulators, keeping a majority of the heat inside.  
  
Legolas turned to Arick and then to the cell. He was hesitant to ask the guard to leave the room when it was so cold outside. He settled for standing close to the cell, warming his hands over a brazier, but still far enough that he could not reached. He looked at Davyn who had come to stand on the other side of the bars to watch him with glittering eyes. The mage spoke first.  
  
"I am glad to see you well." The voice seemed almost sincere.  
  
"Indeed?" The elf could hardly keep from laughing in the mage's face. "I would think that it was because of you that I was almost not so well."  
  
Davyn smiled grimly. "I am merely the instrument of someone else's plans, as much as it pains me to admit it. I find it almost humiliating to not be the one who has masterminded the schemes that were set in motion."  
  
"What did he promise you?" Legolas found himself asking the question out of morbid curiosity.  
  
Davyn leaned against the bars nonchalantly. "He promised me that he would bring you here after the child was born so that I could take some of your magic again. I grow weak and he knows this."  
  
"After the child is born?" Legolas knew he sounded confused. "Why wait to collect your reward? That doesn't seem like you at all, Lord Mage."  
  
The mage laughed quietly. "You really aren't the most observant of elves, are you? Look inside yourself and see what I see clearly. The child has taken most of your strength for itself and you have none to share. Did you not wonder why you suddenly feel the cold so sorely when it is not in your nature to feel it?" He paused at Legolas' look of puzzlement and then continued. "I expect you are close to your time now."  
  
The elf froze and then dropped his gaze to his hands, fanned out over the brazier. "Perhaps. I know little enough of such things, but I hope that this will be over soon." He looked sideways at the mage, watching Davyn from the corner of his eye. The coals lit the wrinkled face with a sullen orange glow, making the eye sockets deep and hollowed. Eyes glinted coldly from within the shadows, watching closely, waiting for some reaction, some weakness. Legolas chose to give him nothing for his pains and schooled his face to blankness.  
  
After several minutes of silence, Legolas spoke quietly. "If you have grown weak, will you still be able to break the spell?" This had been a question that been hidden, yet ever present in the back of his mind.  
  
Davyn walked from the bars and indolently draped himself into one of the chairs. "The process of removing the spell will be much simpler than casting it. In fact, a portion of the power that I invested in your binding will return to me in the process, and that makes it to my benefit to cooperate and break the spell."  
  
Legolas felt the corner of his lip twitch upwards. "And of course, it must be to your benefit in some way for you to do anything."  
  
The mage smiled grimly. "But of course." Davyn shrugged. "But unlike most of the others here, I've always been honest about that." He then leaned forward and placed a finger on his chin. "What do you think will happen if you fail to produce the son they want? After all, it is just as likely that you would bear a daughter, and a girl cannot be the heir. You swore, rather specifically if I recall, to bear the heir."  
  
The elf straightened. "The King has already said he will not hold me to that oath." ::He wouldn't have wanted to hold me to that oath after this morning anyway::  
  
"Ah, yes." Davyn examined his nails in the dim light from the brazier. "But wouldn't you hold yourself to that oath? After all, you are a creature of honor." The mage raised his eyes to look intently at Legolas. "Do you think you could endure his hands on you again? His touch, his lovemaking? Does the thought fill you with revulsion? Or does it fill you with something else?" His eyes gleamed in the dark, barely hidden malevolence shining through.  
  
Legolas stiffened and fixed the mage with a steely glare and then turned, grabbed the cloak from the hook on the wall, and fled the building. Davyn chuckled silently to himself, smiled broadly at the silent guard in the corner and then turned his attention back to his book on cheesemaking.  
  
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0  
  
It was to his own rooms that Legolas fled, looking for some place that he could put his thoughts in order. Emotions that had been previously unknown to him had reared their heads with unnerving frequency now, and they confused him. The rage he had felt earlier had changed into a deep guilt. He should not have overreacted to Aragorn's simple jest.  
  
He could almost feel tears prickling the back of his eyelids as Davyn's words circled in his mind but he could not fathom why they had upset him so. The feeling of confusion mixed with anger, and caused him to feel even more anxiety. He would find peace in his rooms, if not answers to the questions and fears that lurked in his muddled mind.  
  
But peace was not to be found even there. And the empty spot on the mantel was glaringly obvious.  
  
He walked into the inner room to find Valda and a strange woman sitting in the chairs next to the fire, deep in conversation. The woman was older, with long steel gray hair that flowed to the middle of her back even though tied back with a scrap of leather. Her dress was of a simple cut, but of good material and well made. The deep green of the fabric matched her eyes. She looked up when Legolas entered the room and smiled a genuine smile that reached her eyes and warmed them. The thing that stood out about her though, Legolas thought, was her scent. She smelled of herbs and flowers, a clean scent that cut even through the smell smoke from the blazing fire in the hearth.  
  
Disa was in the window seat working on her embroidery. She looked up to momentarily meet Legolas' eyes and then looked down at her work again, a vision of maidenly modesty. Something struck him odd about her behavior but before he could confront her Valda stood, her skirts swishing in the sudden quiet of the room.  
  
Warm hands unclasped the cloak from around his neck and pushed him gently towards the now empty chair. Valda draped the cloak carefully over one arm and smoothed it absently as she spoke. "Legolas, this is Estra." The woman nodded in greeting as she looked closely at the elf. "She will be your midwife." There was a pause. "As well as mine."  
  
Legolas jerked his gaze from the woman in the opposite chair to the one who stood slightly behind him. "But. I thought.." His eyes traveled to where her hand had strayed from the material of the cloak and now rested on her stomach. "I thought you couldn't." He looked up to her face and to the serene expression she wore. "Are you happy?"  
  
The countess smiled. "Yes. Very happy. But also nervous. I'm at the age when I should be having grandchildren, not children." Her eyes crinkled with her smile. "I suspect that your talent for encouraging new life isn't just with plants. We've had a record number of pregnancies in the court this year, if you hadn't noticed."  
  
"Indeed? I hadn't noticed. I suppose it's not in my nature to pay attention to such things." Legolas smiled at her, feeling happy and odd at the same time about her revelation.  
  
Valda leaned closer and spoke quietly. "I told Arnlaug this morning, and I told him what I thought caused this miracle for us. He was already uneasy about what Gilby was proposing and his loyalties will not stray again. I will make sure of that."  
  
Legolas could feel a wave of relief breaking over him. The thought bothered him that one that he had trusted so was working against him. "I am very happy for you both. And I am even happier to hear that." He then turned his attention back to the woman who waited patiently across from him.  
  
"You should have sent for me earlier. Several months ago, in fact." Estra's voice was a pleasant contralto, but there was a core of steel to it. Her eyes glittered as she raised her eyebrows and frowned at Valda.  
  
The countess straightened her shoulders and returned the glare. "There were reasons we could not call you. She has been under my care from the beginning." Legolas turned to find a hand tightly grasping his shoulder.  
  
"Yes. Such tender care you give. You nearly let her starve herself before, and now you let her go off alone and ride." Estra leaned forward and plucked a piece of straw that had somehow worked its way into one of his side braids.  
  
The hand on his shoulder tightened, almost painful now. Legolas shrugged it off. "It is my choice to ride, not hers. If you have complaints, you should address them to me. You can rest assured that I am capable of understanding."  
  
The green eyes centered on him and he leaned back under their intensity. "Indeed, I should, shouldn't I? I see now that you are not nearly as empty headed as you look." She leaned back and then smiled, her eyes warming again. "Fine. No more riding until I say so. A fall could be dangerous."  
  
"Arod would never let me fall." Legolas straightened his back in challenge.  
  
"Arod?" Estra looked confused. "Your horse?" She looked at Valda for confirmation and then back down at Legolas. "I'm sure your horse would never let you fall, but accidents can happen. And this close to your time, accidents can be deadly for you and the child. No riding until I say you may." She raised her finger and quelled another objection by simply pointing. "That is not negotiable."  
  
Legolas sighed and then made a gesture of agreement. If he was honest with himself, it was rather uncomfortable to ride now anyway. Mounting and dismounting had brought their own painful challenges, and he could foresee them only getting worse.  
  
Estra nodded sharply. "Good. Also you go nowhere alone now. I don't want your pains starting and you not having someone with you to help."  
  
"Pains?" Legolas raised his eyebrows. That didn't sound good.  
  
The midwife ignored his question and turned to Disa. "Girl, fetch me a basin of water so I may wash my hands." She then turned those piercing eyes back to him, missing the angry look that Disa shot before doing as she was told. "I need to examine you now. I want you to lie down." She stood and gestured to the bed.  
  
He felt his eyes grow wide. "No. Not there. Not on the bed."  
  
Valda's hand was on his shoulder, firmly gripping, trying to comfort but restraining instead. Estra looked at him sharply. "I certainly don't intend to kneel on the floor. And how would you get up again?" There was a touch of humor in her voice.  
  
"With some difficulty, but I do it every morning." His voice was flat and his eyes burned as if with unshed tears.  
  
Estra's face softened with realization. She leaned back and put her hand on his other shoulder. "The bed did not do this to you; it had no hand in this at all. The bed is simply furniture, no more, no less. There is no reason for you to sleep on the floor when you can be comfortable and warm." She moved her hand to his chin. "Come now, listen to me. I know what is best for you at this time. Come lie on the bed and let me see what we have."  
  
He studied her closely and after a long moment nodded. Levering himself from the chair, he followed her to the bed and allowed her to help him lie down. He bit his lip and swallowed a sound of outrage as her warm hands began to press firmly on his stomach, and then pulled down the waist of his leggings to rest below the swell of his stomach. Her touch was unfamiliar and unwelcome.  
  
"Don't wear these anymore." She then pulled the leggings the rest of the way off.  
  
"Why? Because they aren't proper?" Legolas turned his anger into scorn. Better that than the fear that pressed at the edge of his mind as her hands continued to touch him in places that he would have preferred to not even own.  
  
Fingers firmly traced a deep red line where the waist cord had been. "No. Because they hurt you. You're uncomfortable enough as it is. Why add to it?" Estra's hands then lifted the tunic higher to gently squeeze the breasts, ignoring his squeak of distress, and then pulled the tunic back down as Disa returned with a basin and small towel. "More food, more rest, and gentle exercise." This was addressed to Valda, who nodded. "The bed is too soft. Have someone tighten the ropes and put something under the mattress to firm it up. I wouldn't sleep in this either." She sounded like a general commanding an army, issuing her orders and expecting them obeyed without question. The hands then strayed lightly across the golden collar and stone beneath it, but the touch was more curious than invasive.  
  
"Your water, Ma'am." Disa appeared next to the bed with a basin and towel. Legolas noted the proper angle of her head and the curtsey of exact depth. The girl gave the midwife her proper due, but nothing more.  
  
"Thank you, child." Estra patted Disa on the head absently and then began to wash her hands with some fragrant extract she had taken from her pouch. Legolas hid a smirk in his sleeve as Disa fumed silently. It was good that someone else was feeling uncomfortable and marginalized. That it was the girl made it so much more enjoyable.  
  
He was enjoying her discomfiture entirely too much when slender fingers touched a most intimate place and began to work their way inward. Suppressing a yelp, he stiffened and pushed Estra away. "No! Not there!" He found himself on his knees at the head of the bed, panting for breath. "Why must you touch me there?" The words were sobbed out.  
  
The midwife held her hands out in a reassuring gesture. "There is a door inside your body that the child must pass through. I need to see if the door is opening or ready to open yet, or if there are any problems with the door. I apologize; I thought you knew this already." Then the woman turned to glare at Valda. "I assume that this was not a love match and that he was not gentle?"  
  
Legolas answered that question with a strangled laugh.  
  
Estra turned back to him and tried again, her voice smooth and soft. "Tell me, child, how it is with your people. How are the birthings amongst the elves? What should I do to make you more comfortable?"  
  
"I know nothing of such things." He could hear his voice in his own ears, high pitched and strangled. "I am among the last born of my people and know nothing of what you ask. I had no reason to know until now." He choked down a sob and turned his eyes down to the bed. He would not, could not let them see his weakness. "The only way you could make me more comfortable was for this to have never happened, and that I was myself again. This cannot be happening." The last was whispered quietly, but the woman heard it and she furrowed her brow in confusion.  
  
There was a soft knock on the door, and Disa moved to answer it. She placed the basin carefully on the table and then opened the door a crack to see who was there. After a moment she opened it wider to allow the King to enter. His eyes swept the room, taking in the scene. "What has happened?" He whispered the words to Disa, not wanting to attract attention.  
  
The girl looked up and raised her eyebrows at the dark bruise on his forehead and then shrugged her shoulders. "Your lady wife does not like being touched and has made that abundantly clear to the midwife."  
  
The King snorted. "She has made her displeasure abundantly clear to everyone today." He absently rubbed the cut on his brow.  
  
Estra sat quietly on the side of the bed and placed her hands on her laps. "I'm sorry that I frightened you. Forgive me." She folded her hands and then leaned forward. "I want you to trust me now because we won't have time to build any confidence when your pains start."  
  
"Pains?" Legolas echoed her again. "What pains?"  
  
The woman paused and then looked at him closely. "Your labor pains. Surely you know of that, at least. Surely your mother or some female relative told you about such things when your courses started?"  
  
Legolas leaned back into the headboard, even more confused. "Courses? What are courses?"  
  
"Your moon bleedings. Surely you know what moon bleedings are?" Estra was shocked by the blank look on the Elf's face.  
  
Legolas shook his head slowly and started when Valda cleared her throat and spoke in a low voice. "Estra, Legolas will not have any personal knowledge of any of those things, or of any of the women's secrets for that matter. I cannot tell you why, but I can assure you of that."  
  
There was a long silence as Estra looked from the Elf to the countess and then back again. "So the stories are true? The dirty rumors that one dismisses as impossible, that no one would be cruel enough to do such a thing. They are true?"  
  
Valda flushed and looked away, confirming with her lack of confirmation. Legolas remained perched at the headboard, body tight with alarm. His voice was hollow. "There are many types of cruelty, Lady. They take many different forms."  
  
The woman stood and brushed her hands against her dress. Her eyes were no longer warm, but cold as the frozen pond in the garden below. She turned and faced the King in the corner and stalked over to him. He stood tall before her but she was unafraid. Her voice was a low growl, only heard by the two of them and by Disa, who still stood next to the door. "You did this. this horrible thing. and you stand there as if you did nothing?"  
  
The king straightened. "How did you know of this?" Guilt rose up in his eyes to be buried by anger.  
  
She laughed derisively, the merry sound not matching the frost in her eyes. "People are not stupid. There are stories of an elf prince that rode to your palace at midwinter, with eyes the color of the summer sky and hair like golden silk. A week later you marry a previously unknown and unseen elf princess with the same hair and eyes and lock her away. When she finally emerges, she rides the same horse the prince rode and prefers the garb and ways of a man. What would you think people talk about when the nights are long and dark?" She paused for breath and then continued. "I thought it was all bunk, but now I see that it isn't. How could you do such an evil thing?"  
  
There was a small gasp that neither of them heard, even though Disa would later swear that it echoed from the walls. She covered her mouth and turned her eyes to the blonde figure that Valda was helping climb down from the bed. "I am the most unnatural woman you will ever meet." She mouthed the words silently as tears ran down her cheeks. With a choked sob the girl opened the door and ran from the room, her exit unnoticed by all.  
  
Aragorn drew himself up, seeming to wrap his nobility around him like a cloak. He looked down upon Estra with grey eyes that glinted with warning. "I would school my tongue, were I you. It is not your place to reprimand me."  
  
Estra was unimpressed and unmoved. "No, but it is my place to make sure that your lady and child survive the birth. You've made that much harder. I've often said that a male could not withstand the experience of giving birth, but I never wanted the means to prove it." The woman sighed from the bottom of her soul and she seemed to sag, almost as if a great weight had fallen upon her shoulders. "Were I sensible, I would walk from this room right now." She then straightened. "But I am hardly known for my sanity."  
  
"Will they be alright?" The king's voice was soft, as if he were finally realizing the enormity of what loomed ahead of them.  
  
The woman spared him a withering glance. "I don't know. It seems to me that while the body is completely female, the mind is most assuredly not. I can only hope that the body knows what to do in this situation and the mind follows."  
  
"And if not?"  
  
Estra pursed her lips in thought. "If not, we'll have to find another way, won't we?" Her eyes narrowed as she turned back to the king. "Understand this. You may be king of this realm, but there are no kings in the birthing room. Only me, and I will brook no opposition. If you are unable to understand this, I'll leave now and you can find someone else to work with her." She narrowed her eyes at the Elf who now sat on the edge of the bed and watched them both with worried eyes. "I'd get someone quickly though. You don't have long."  
  
"I would never overrule one of my experienced generals on the battlefield. I expect that it is much the same with you." Aragorn shifted and crossed his arms over his chest. "When will the child come, then?"  
  
"Children come when they will. I would never claim to be able to predict exactly when." She paused and rubbed her chin. "I would guess a fortnight. Maybe more, maybe less. Not more than a month, though." She turned back to the king. "I have much work to do. If there is nothing else." She nodded abruptly and strode back to the bed.  
  
Aragorn looked at the three women and shook his head. Valda had draped the small blonde figure in a comforting embrace, smoothing the long hair. The tall woman in green had arranged herself on the other side of the Elf and was speaking softly and moving her hands as though to illustrate a point. It was as if he were no longer present, no longer relevant to their world. His brow furrowed for a moment, and then he shrugged and shook his head. Better to be invisible than to be a target for flying porcelains.  
  
As he left the rooms, a small figure huddled in the hallway outside caught his eye. Disa's long brown hair covered her face as she sat in a corner and wept. He cleared his throat and the girl jumped and brushed her hair from her face, revealing red and swollen eyes. A sob caught in her throat and then she spoke. "Who is the bigger monster here? You for doing this to him or me for wanting him to stay this way even when I knew how miserable he was?"  
  
All Aragorn could do was shake his head. He had no answers.  
  
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Legolas sat in the window and looked out at the night sky. The cold still bothered him but the warm blanket Clotild had wrapped around his shoulders helped. So did the warm brick Lanelese placed at his feet.  
  
They both still puttered around the room, doing nothing, but looking as though they were busy. They were to make sure he was not alone, even though he wished for solitude more than anything at this moment. At least they were a familiar presence and comforting in their own way, he supposed.  
  
He allowed his thoughts to drift back to the afternoon. Estra had left after a long conversation with a promise to return in a few days if she was not summoned first. The basis of their conversation had been more disturbing than comforting, but at least he felt he could trust the woman. He would have to trust someone, and he was finding the women of Gondor much more worthy of that then their male counterparts.  
  
"Tell me anything at all", she'd pleaded, "anything you can recall about your people and birthing. Anything. Any story, any memory."  
  
He'd thought hard and long for her. "Feasting and music" he'd finally said. "After a birth, there was always a celebration." He'd nodded as he looked at her. "I would expect that during the birth there would be music." He'd narrowed his eyes and thought. "Yes, music. I'm sure it would be a very calm and serene occasion, bringing a new life into the world, and there would be music. We're a very musical people, you know." He'd said the last almost as an aside.  
  
He'd been surprised at her raised eyebrows and the sparkle in her eyes, as though she were restraining laughter. "You've raised horses, right?" She waited for his nod and then continued. "Have you seen any of your mares foal before?"  
  
"Of course." No good breeder left his mares to foal alone.  
  
"Good. Now put what you've seen there into mind with your own present anatomy. It's not the same, but similar."  
  
He'd felt his lip curl up in disgust as he recalled the specifics of the last time he'd spent the night watching one of Arod's children being born. He blinked as he remembered. Disgust wasn't the exact word for what he felt. After all, birthing was completely natural and part of life. It just wasn't natural for him, nor did he want it to be normal for him either. He leaned his head against the wall, suppressing a shiver at how cold it was on his back. ::I must remember to control my temper. I might accidentally kill Aragorn with a well thrown plate if I keep that visual in my mind and at this moment, I'm unsure if that would be such a bad thing.::  
  
He was so lost in the rather satisfying visions of hurling abuse, crockery and sharp edged weapons at the king that he did not notice Disa until she'd cleared her throat. She was dressed in a white nightshift with fine woven wool robe belted over top. Her eyes were swollen and red, and her hair fell partially into her face, covering it from the other two maids.  
  
He looked at her with some concern. "Are you alright? What's wrong, Disa?" He leaned forward and brushed her hair from her face so that he could see her more clearly.  
  
The girl shook her head. "I'm sorry. I swear I didn't know." A silent sob shook her shoulders.  
  
Legolas craned his head to look at her more closely. "Sorry for what? What's happened?"  
  
She closed her eyes and turned her head towards the window. With another silent sob, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small glass vial and placed it into his hand, closing his fingers around it as she did so.  
  
He brought his fist back to himself and opened his fingers slowly to see what lay there. He already knew what it was before he had fully opened his hand. His mouth had turned itself into a frown and he heard his voice as if from a distant shore. "Why?"  
  
The girl turned to the main room where Clotild and Lanelese had given up all pretense of doing something besides watching them. Legolas followed her gaze and then waved to them. "Go to bed, Ladies. I'm fine, I'm not alone. Disa is here to keep me company." They both looked unhappy with this but obeyed.  
  
He watched them leave and the door shut behind them. He then turned back to the girl in front of him. "Why?"  
  
The girl looked down to her feet. "He said that if you were controlled and obedient, I could go home to my family. He said it wouldn't hurt you or the child - I would never do that -- but he said that once you were pacified I could go back home." She looked up again and tears shone in her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know what you really were. I thought you were just a woman unable to accept her lot in life."  
  
"He. Gilby?" Legolas knew his voice was flat and emotionless, and that would probably frighten the child more than she already was.  
  
Disa nodded. "Yes." She sobbed, this time aloud. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted him. Father said that I should never trust him, that he was a scorpion that would sting any who tried to clutch him to their bosom." The girl stopped and looked up at him. "He knows what you really are, doesn't he?" At Legolas' nod, the girl went pale and spoke in a small voice. "And he doesn't care." She shook her head, bewildered. "How can he not care?"  
  
Legolas spoke quietly as he turned the vial over and over in his fingers. "He does not care because he does not see me as a person. He sees me as I am now as an object who can serve him and the kingdom in a way that he interprets as best. It does not matter what others think, as long as his vision is served." Bitterness seeped from his words as he watched the flames from the fireplace refract in the clear glass.  
  
"I'm so sorry. I didn't know." The girl's lower lip trembled as new tears threatened to run down her face.  
  
"Few do." Legolas sighed and fingered the collar at his neck, the stone at his throat. "Lanelese and Clotild know, of course. They've been with me since the beginning. Valda was there when this was done to me, as were the councilors. Others may suspect, but few have questioned. I would suppose that they are happy with things as they are and not willing to ask what they would not wish to know the truth of."  
  
The girl nodded slowly. "My father always says, 'Do not ask that of which you really do not want to know the answer'." She wiped tears from her blotchy face. "I will go find Gilby now and tell him that I want nothing further to do with him or his schemes. I'm so sorry."  
  
The Elf held his hand up. "No. Don't go to him. Don't tell him anything." He paused and looked at the ceiling, collecting his thoughts. "I would prefer if he still thought was still using you instead of finding someone else to do his work. We can also keep track of what he has in mind through you." He looked back at the girl with a meaningful gaze.  
  
Disa looked confused and then gasped as she realized what he intended. "You would rather that I keep acting as though I am his agent, but tell you what he tells me."  
  
"Exactly." The girl wasn't as dense as they said, he thought. "Aragorn says he has this under control, but I'm not so sure I trust him at this point, either. I'd rather keep a little control for myself at this time. I've had so little of it recently, after all."  
  
Dimpling prettily, Disa smiled. "I understand. And when Gilby asks of the news from our household, I'll tell him all the featherheaded things he expects to hear from a female, about embroidery and clothes, and the baby." She gasped and put her hands to her mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."  
  
"I know." Legolas rested a slender hand on his stomach. "I will have to face that reality soon." He paused. "But not today. Today has been bad enough." He looked at the bed and sighed.  
  
"You are tired. You should rest." Disa cocked her head. "Why do you fear the bed?"  
  
He blinked tiredly. "I don't think I fear the bed as much as the memories I associate with it. I was. forced many times in that bed, and I do not like remembering those moments." He twiddled the vial absently in his fingers.  
  
"I understand. My mother felt the same way about her marriage bed for many years." At his sharp gaze, the girl flushed. "She told me before I came here. But she said when her children came it made that which was unendurable better. for their sakes. I think she was trying to comfort me." Disa leaned forward and touched his shoulder. "I'll sleep with you. Nothing will happen while I'm there. I promise."  
  
Legolas could only think how odd it was that he was so much older than this girl, yet she seemed so much adult at that moment. "You would be a good wife to him." The words escaped his lips before he realized it.  
  
"I do not want him." There was no question on who "he" was. "All I have ever wanted was to go home." The girl sighed. "I don't know if that will ever happen now, but I have made my choices. My father says that once you make the choice you know is right, you should never look back."  
  
Legolas nodded. "I would almost think your father has the propensity for wisdom, if not for the way he treats his women." He smiled at the girl's flushed cheeks. "I am tired, and I would like to be warm tonight. I accept your offer, as long as you promise that you do not snore. Aragorn snores like a Balrog in heat." He passed the vial back to her. "Here. Put this somewhere safe. You never know when you might need it." 


	15. chapter 15

Yet another 4 AM disclaimer.  Don't own 'em.  Don't wanna own 'em.  Make diddly-squat writing this.  Have no money anyways, don't sue.

Regarding the rating.  I had actually been thinking about downgrading the rating on this work for several week.  I'd originally assigned an NC-17 for the concept of nonconsensual relations, even if they weren't described except in the vaguest of terms.  After reading NC-17 for a few months, I came to the realization that I was writing the equivalent of scripts for Sesame Street compared to most of that stuff.  So I can rationalize and say that changing the rating doesn't change that much here.  

I'm certainly not happy about FF.Net's decision to get rid of all the NC-17 stuff, but I can see their position in our litigious society.  I suppose I wouldn't want to be stuck holding a big flaming bag of what could be considered kiddie porn in some states either.  …..

But anyways…. Here it is….   I bet you'll hate me when it's done, but the story STILL isn't over… heh.  I am evil.  

It was an odd feeling to be so tired all the time, he thought.   Legolas rolled onto his left side and closed his eyes against the dull morning light.  

The new position was only moderately more comfortable than the one on his right side and he knew from experience that the newfound comfort would be short-lived.  

No position truly felt good anymore.  He could no longer lie on his back without feeling pinned.  To lie on his stomach would have been a miracle. Even lying on one side was confining in its own way.  Standing made one area of his back hurt.  Sitting made another.  He had actually found one position --half sitting, half propped against the wall near the window-- that had actually been endurable for a few minutes until the cold had seeped into his bones and driven him back to the fire.  Sadly, when he'd tried the position again the next day, it had lost its effectiveness and was as uncomfortable as everything else. 

He sighed and relaxed into the mattress.  At least it was warm under the heavy blankets and quilts.

Almost as if protesting the slight measure of comfort found in the present position, the child began to move and turn vigorously.  

It seemed lately as though the child retaliated for having less room to move with hard kicks and pokes in increasingly sensitive areas. At times he could swear that the young one took a sadistic joy in making him leap up and waddle for the garderobe as quickly as his legs could carry him.  

Almost as if his thoughts had been read, a strong thump on his bladder made his eyes fly open. With a feeling of real urgency, he considered his options.  He could send Disa for a heavy robe and slippers and go to the garderobe down the hall.  It was a cold, cold room now, and he did not like the thought of leaving his warm nest of blankets and putting his skin on the cold seat there.  Or he could make use of the chamber pot next to the bed.  He wrinkled his nose at the thought of trying to keep his balance while squatting down over the pot.  His body had only grown more ungainly in the past weeks, plus the fastidious part of him did not like the thought of having a pot of his own waste next to the bed.  He had had enough of chamber pots when he had been locked in for months and wanted nothing more to do with them.  Perhaps he could simply close his eyes and ignore the feeling for a little longer.  He was warm and moderately comfortable.  He could feel his eyelids sag as he relaxed back into the mattress.  

A second thump removed that plan of action as his eyes flew open, even wider than before.  He would have to relieve himself and soon.  

For a moment he reflected on his lost maleness and mourned the loss of the ability to simply left fly when the urge hit.  The vision of himself straddling the bedroom window and voiding his bladder down below -- not caring if there were passersby or not -- was rather humorous in his eyes and made him snigger under his breath until the child prodded the overfull bladder again.  

With a small sound of regret, Legolas turned his mind back to the two options.  Garderobe:  Long, cold walk, slight discomfort, cold seat, no smell in the room.  Chamber pot:  Cold for a moment, very real possibility of falling over and fouling oneself, smell.   The chamber pot was winning because he could simply crawl back under the covers again.  But it was morning.  He should rise.  He'd promised Arod a good brushing today. 

The horse had complained yesterday that no one would currycomb him the way his Elf did.  He'd taken notice of a rather promising chestnut filly two stalls down that he knew had also taken notice of him.  Therefore his coat should be at its most glossy and smooth.  He mourned their lack of rides, but still enjoyed going to the exercise yard so that he could show his paces to the young lady.  It seemed he lifted his hooves and measured his gaits so much more precisely when he knew she was watching.    

True love, even of the equine version, was the last thing Legolas wanted to hear about.  

With a sigh, Legolas reached over and poked Disa in the shoulder.  The girl had slept with him every night for the past three weeks.  He'd been able to rest with her there, strangely enough.  Perhaps the feeling of a female next to him made some part of his mind think that he was male again.  Or perhaps it was the sound of her deep and steady breathing as she dreamed that helped lull him into an uneasy rest.  

She twitched and mumbled in her sleep, and then rolled over so that her back was to him.  He bit his lip as the urge to urinate became an overwhelming need.  He poked her again, hard enough to rock her small frame.  She mumbled and then rolled over to look at him, eyes still heavy with sleep.  "Again?" she asked in a long-suffering voice.  

He simply nodded, eyes wide and showing his near pain. 

The girl sighed and then rolled out of bed with a grace that Legolas envied.  She offered her hand to help him from the bed and he grasped it gratefully.  He'd been prideful the first times she'd offered but had learned to bow his head and accept the aid.  He might not have ever gotten out of bed otherwise.  She then left to go fetch a warm robe and slippers.

He paused before the mirror and saw the woman there.  The stomach that bulged out before her dwarfed the rest of her body.  Limbs that were once slender and graceful were swollen and stiff.  Her face was worn and her eyes tired.  

He touched her hand in the mirror and smiled at her, and her face lit up with a smile of its own, making her beautiful despite her adversity.  "I would kill the one who did this to you with my bare hands, were I you."  They laughed together at his poor joke.  They both knew he would use steel.  

His eyes traveled down to her stomach and rested there for a long moment.  He then looked down at himself and rested a hand on the swell he found there.  He looked up in the mirror again and found the woman watching him with an almost tender look on her face.  He turned his eyes down again. She knew his heart even better than he did, it seemed.  "You know I cannot allow myself to feel for the little one. It must stay and I must leave."

He looked up to see her frown.  He then closed his eyes and shook his head as pain welled up in his chest.  "I know.  The child deserves better than that.  It deserves to be loved and cherished like the treasure it is, and in any other circumstance I would welcome a child with open arms and loving heart."  He looked back to her again and saw tears glistening in her eyes.  "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.  I can't do what you want.  I can't let myself feel for it.  There is too much pain, too much resentment, too much anger.  I can't."  

Tears rolled down the woman's pale cheeks as he watched.  "I'm sorry."  He mouthed the words, his voice failing him as he felt a lump rise in his throat.  

There was a small sound next to him and he turned to see Disa standing there, robe across her arms.  "Who are you talking to?"  She looked from him to the mirror and back again.  

He turned back to the woman and touched fingertips with her again, and then reached up to wipe the tears from her cheek but touched only cold glass. The woman radiated sadness and it was painful to look into her eyes.  "No one."  His voice was a tight whisper.  "Just myself."  He and the woman nodded to each other as he acknowledged that simple truth.    

The girl frowned and then wrapped the robe around his shoulders.  "I thought you had to go to the garderobe?"  

The mention of it was enough to remind him how badly he had to go. "Yes."  He looked one more time at the sad woman in the mirror and then turned to go as another thump on his bladder made him wince.  He muttered as he waddled towards the door, "I wonder if I did the same to my mother, and if so why she let me live.  I am not inclined to be merciful to this one when it finally comes, after the rough treatment I've received."  

Disa laughed, the sound bright.  "Estra says soon, Lady.  The baby has already dropped and the child is eager to join us all in the bright world."  She paused and then spoke almost solemnly.  "You'll forget all the bad things once you hold your child in your arms.  That is the way of the world."

Legolas could only roll his eyes.  "Soon is not soon enough, Disa, and somehow I doubt I could forget even a fraction of what has happened here."

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The stable was loomed ahead and Legolas tried to walk faster to get to the warmth that it promised.  A glance up showed that the clouds were slate gray, almost as if a sheet of metal had been drawn across the sky.  The world seemed strangely quiet and still, as though it too was wondering what would come from such a menacing sky. 

Disa and Clotild were talking as they walked behind him, voices loud in the silence surrounding them.  A sudden wind picked up the edge of his cloak and penetrated the heavy layers of wool underneath as if he'd been wearing nothing.  He suppressed a shiver as he waddled to the door and a waiting stable boy let them in with a tug on his forelock and a bow.  

The stables were warm and smelled of horse.  To Legolas' nose that was a good smell, a smell of comfort and familiarity.  Disa wrinkled her face, not liking the strong odor.  Clotild merely ignored it as she hurried to the far end of the stable and peeked out into the exercise yard.  

She hissed at Disa and frantically waved the girl over to a gap in the door.  Disa scampered over and they both stared out and whispered to each other.  Legolas shook his head and allowed a smile to ghost his lips.  

Outside Councilor Regin and his son Royd were exercising their horses.  Their voices rang in the still air, deep and merry, unaware that they had admirers that hung on their every word or drank in the very sight of them.  

Legolas walked behind them, and placed a hand on Clotild's shoulder.  "Why don't you go out and watch them?"

Disa gasped.  "Oh no, we couldn't do that!  It would be most improper to be seen in the company of men without a chaperone."

There was a wicked twinkle in Clotild's green eyes.  "We could chaperone each other, Disa.  I know that you like to watch the son almost as much as I like to watch the father."

Lip curled, Disa asked, "The father?  He's so...  old."

Clotild smiled. "Yes, he's older, but he's a good man who appreciates a woman who can think on her own.  I know he's been lonely since his wife died all those years ago.  Who knows?  Maybe he could appreciate an upstart made-noble wife better than the other men around here because of his own background." 

The Elf nodded.  "I think so.  You two go.  I won't be alone.  Arod will be here to watch over me, and you'll be right outside the doors."  

With a secret look shared between them the two grasped hands and slipped outside, excited giggles drifting back into the stable behind them.  

A joyful whicker came from the end stall and Legolas walked to where Arod waited, hooves dancing in an anxious rhythm.  The horse nosed his way through the layers of wool to find an apple hidden in a pocket.  With a quiet laugh, Legolas fished it out and offered it to the horse who greedily lipped it up and then turned to present his side to his elf.  

Legolas smiled.  "Subtle hint there, old friend?"  He reached for the currycomb that hung from the side of the stall.  His fingers brushed the bristles, scratching the sensitive finger pads. He then froze as what felt like a band tightened painfully across his stomach.  He couldn't move or breathe for a long moment.  And then the pain stopped just as suddenly as it had come.  He felt his shoulders sag as he gasped for air, filling his lungs.  

Arod nickered and bumped against him, almost sending him sprawling. Legolas took a deep breath and then grasped the currycomb in almost numb fingers.  He looped the leather strap across the back of his hand and began to work, long, hard strokes that made the horse's flank twitch in pleasure.  After several minutes of brushing with no repeat of the pain, he began to relax.  It was then that he felt the tightening again, this time stronger and harder.  

He stood immobile, holding his breath against the pressure in his abdomen.  Laughter rang out in the exercise yard and echoed in his head.  All he had to do was call and Clotild and Disa would be there in a moment.  But he had no breath in his lungs to talk, much less shout.  And what would they do when they came?  The pain abated.  Legolas sagged against Arod's side, breathing in the warm scent of horse. 

Arod shifted and then turned to look at the figure drawing breath in ragged pants against his side.  He whickered a low, calming sound and tried to nose his elf.  

Legolas looked up at the horse and weakly scratched an ear.  Arod snorted, not willing to be placated, and tried to nose his elf again.

The Elf pushed back from the horse and leaned against the stall.  He allowed himself to slide down the wall until he was sitting the clean straw that was piled there.  He breathed deeply, the smell reminding him of summer, and looked up at the horse that regarded him with worried eyes.  "It's alright, Arod.  I've taken wounds that hurt worse than this.  I can handle it.  I just need to rest a moment."  He reached up to scratch the outstretched chin as the horse moved to stand in front of him.  

The horse whickered again, low and worried, refusing to be appeased by the scratches that came from familiar hands.  He nuzzled the long hair, searching for a clue of what might be hurting his elf.  

The straw was stiff and poked Legolas through the heavy layers of wool he wore.  What normally would have been a minor irritant was now almost unendurable.  He calmed himself with great lungfuls of air and spoke to the horse in a low voice.  "I am a warrior.  I will not let this break me.  I can endure this, I can control this pain." 

It was then that another wave of pain washed over him. He saw red briefly until he realized he had clamped his eyes shut so tightly they felt pressed into his skull.  A small whimper escaped his lips before he pressed them shut.  Arod was even more alarmed, this time whinnying and stepping carefully around him.  When the pain left, it took all Legolas had to lay his head back against the wall and cluck comfortingly to horse.  Arod snorted, refusing to be soothed by such obviously false sounds. 

Rest.  Rest would be good for a few minutes.  Then he could get up and try to make his way back to his rooms.  His eyes glazed and he dozed lightly while Arod stood guard.  The sounds of laughter from outside grew louder as the girls walked back into the stables, and then stopped suddenly when they realized they could not see Legolas.  Hurried footsteps made their way across the floor to where Arod stood, legs braced and teeth bared, waiting for them.  

Sudden searing pain tore Legolas from his waking dreams, and a moan escaped his lips.  Arod moved even closer, exercising extreme care not to step on his elf, and then turned to face the threat of the two women who had just come to the door of his stall.  

"Lady!"  Clotild's voice echoed through the low roof and was answered by a snort of challenge from the horse.  The maid ignored the horse and ran forward to help Legolas to his feet when she was drawn up short by teeth snapping in her face.  

The maid leaped back and to the side and Arod's head swiveled to follow her.  Disa, seeing an opening, made to dive under the horse's neck but was knocked over when Arod thrust his body forward to block her.   She rolled out of the way of heavy hooves that struck the floor where she had just landed.  Legolas tried to speak, tried to tell Arod to leave them be, but there was no breath in his lungs to use for words.  

Disa swore under her breath, words that her father would have beaten her senseless for knowing, much less using.  Her fear of horses was well known by all, and this experience would make not make things any better.    Luckily her fear was not the paralyzing type.  She rolled over to the stall door and stood up, brushed straw from her hair and made a silent note to thank the stable boy for mucking out the stall before they arrived this morning.  

Clotild stood in front of her and watched the horse turn back to his Elf and gently lip the golden hair.  "Disa, go get help.  He won't hurt her.  He's protecting her."  Clotild's voice was smooth and calm, pitched to not alarm the horse.  "I'll keep trying while you get help."

The girl bristled for a moment at the order, but then realized that Clotild was right.  The maid was not afraid of Arod and would not hesitate to throw herself into the fray again if needed.  Picking up heavy skirts, Disa ran back into the exercise yard hoping to find Regin or Royd.  

She glanced anxiously at the rapidly darkening sky as she ran across the yard towards the sound of male voices.  Her lungs burned with the cold air and her breath steamed before her.  She turned the corner and then suddenly collided with Aragorn.   Her small body bounced back from the impact and she landed on her backside with a cry of pain.  She pulled her skirts back down over her legs and looked up to meet his gaze.

He was dressed in riding leathers and a heavy cloak, and spurs gleamed on his heels. It must have been time for his morning ride when he had stopped to speak with Regin on his way to the stables. The three men turned in surprise to see the oh-so-prim and proper Disa decorating the cobbles with her rear.  The king seemed to find this most amusing.  His eyes crinkled in good humor as he smiled and offered his hand to help her up. 

Disa met his eyes, her normal modesty forgotten in the urgency of the matter.  She grabbed his hand and leaped to her feet.  "Majesty!  You must help!  The Lady…"  She pulled the gloved hand she had yet to release and began to run back towards the stables, trying to tow him with her.   

To his credit, he didn't argue.  He simply ran with her back to the stables, Regin and Royd following in their footsteps.  Their tread was heavy and thumped in the still air in counterpoint with her harsh breaths and light gait.  

They returned to find that Clotild had worked her way halfway across the stall.  Arod still stood over the elf, breathing hard and shaking, but not attacking.  Legolas spoke quietly in Elvish, the sweet voice almost like the ringing of bells.  The horse seemed to be about to allow the maid to reach her goal. Then the rhythm of the voice changed, becoming more strained and choked, and then silent after a small gasp of pain.  

Arod lunged forward at the maid; teeth clicked together a mere hairsbreadth from where Clotild's outstretched hand had been a moment before.  Clotild threw herself backwards out of reach and had almost fallen, but had been caught by Regin.  

"Legolas", Aragorn spoke, "Tell Arod to let us help you."  After he spoke, he realized that was probably what the elf had been trying to do when he arrived.  He shook his head in disgust and then actually looked at the elf on the far side of the straw.

The entire body was tensed, every muscle tight as if the elf were fighting an enemy within.  The fair face was pale and drawn; the eyes were clenched shut and the rosebud mouth drawn into a grimace.  He could tell that Legolas was also holding his breath, as if in too much pain to take in air.

Clotild spoke as he regarded the scene.  "The pain is too great for her to speak.  It will pass in a moment and we can try again.  She tried to help before, but the pains came on too quickly for me to get to her." 

The king stared at the horse as he considered the situation.  The horse returned the royal gaze with a baleful one of his own.  A small gasp broke the tension between them as Legolas began breathe heavily, sucking in air desperately.   

The horse turned again and lipped the heavy wool overdress, searching for what ever might be causing such pain to his elf.  

The king used this distraction to grab a nearby length of rope from the side of the stall and tie a slipknot into it.  He knew that he had to move now, while the horse was distracted.  He strode into the stall, his boots thumping against the floor.  Arod raised his head with a grunt, but Aragorn was ready for him. The noose was held in such a way that the horse lifted his head into the opening which the king then pulled tight.  

Arod screamed in rage.  He had not been bound since he had been with Legolas and he found it galling.  He started to rear, but realized that he would step on his elf if he did so.  He instead planted his hooves and lowered his head, snorting.  

Aragorn gestured and Regin and Royd joined him to haul Arod to the far side of the stall where a strong iron ring was hammered into the heavy support beam.  He passed the rope through the ring and pulled it so that the horse was pulled to the far side of the stall.  A tight knot finished the job and Arod futilely tried to fight his way free.   

Clotild and Disa ran forward and helped Legolas to his feet and began to half walk, half carry him from the stall.  Legolas leaned heavily against one, then the other, and then found his balance and lurched over to Aragorn, his face pale and tense.

"I would have been able to calm him if you had allowed me time, Aragorn.  Is this how you treat all that you cannot bend to your will?  By binding them?"

Aragorn's eyes lowered of their own will to the golden collar around the pale throat.  A look of guilt flitted across his face but then disappeared.  "If that is what it takes to do what I must, then yes."  

He opened his mouth to continue, but Legolas suddenly paled even more and began to slowly bend over, drawing breath in short, harsh gasps.   Arod bugled in alarm and began to pull even more frantically at the rope, shaking the entire stall.  A small strained sound escaped the elf's tightly pressed lips, but nothing else.  

Clotild came forward and stood in front of the Elf, offering her shoulder as a resting area for his head as he held his breath and counted silently the time till the pain receded.  His arms wrapped themselves around her neck after a moment, so that he could hold himself up.   After a long moment, Legolas began to gasp for air again.  

"We need to fetch Estra."  Clotild spoke softly as she picked remnants of straw from the blonde hair with a soothing touch.  "Someone needs to ride down and get her, and soon.  The pains are coming fast, but the storm outside is coming faster."  She did not address anyone in particular, but everyone there knew the sense of her words.

Regin stepped forward and tugged his forelock as he looked to Aragorn.  "My Lord, I'll take some horses and go fetch her now.  I'd hate to have your lady not have the help she needs when she needs it most."  He turned his warm brown eyes to Clotild.  "Can you tell me the way, Lady?"  He spoke to the maid as if he were speaking to the most highborn of nobles.  

Disa spoke up then.  "Clotild can show you, My Lord. I'll help the Lady back to her rooms and make all ready."  The girl opened her eyes wide and gave a meaningful look to Clotild.  The maid frowned, obviously torn about leaving her charge, but also wanting to go with the Portmaster.  "Go, Clotild.  If you're with him, there's no chance he'll get lost, and you both can help Estra carry everything she needs."  

 "I agree, Lady.  We can ride down together and bring a horse for the midwife."  Regin smiled encouragement to her.  "Royd, get the horses ready."  His son nodded and left.

Clotild shook her head.  "My Lord, I don't know how to ride."  Her face crumpled while her hands kept smoothing the blonde hair.  

The Portmaster smiled.  "Then you will ride with me.  I won't let you fall."  His voice was soft and gentle, and Clotild's heart was won.  "And after this is over, I promise I shall personally teach you.  There is no shame in not knowing highborn things."

Royd ran up, leading three horses by their reins.  Clotild gently disentangled the elf from her shoulder and ran to Regin's side.  He effortlessly lifted her up and placed her before his saddle and then swung up behind her.  He grabbed one of the other horse's reins and then gestured to his son.

Running on long legs, Royd reached the doors and threw them open, letting the three of them out into the cold air.  A light spray of snow blew in as they raced into the teeth of the wind, the door blown shut behind them.  

Disa watched them leave and then turned to Legolas.  "We have to get you back to the room, Lady.  You'll be so much warmer there."  She had watched the elf shiver when the others had ridden out.

Straightening his back, Legolas drew himself up, nodded and began to shuffle towards the far doors.  Disa trotted afterwards, and then positioned herself to one side to give assistance if needed.

Aragorn stood numbly for a moment, watching them make their slow progress to the far doors and then turned back to Arod.  He leaned forward and deftly snagged the end of the slipknot and tugged on it as he moved towards the door.  He slammed the door behind him just as the enraged stallion realized he was free.  

An angry snort rang into the rafters as Aragorn turned back to his four legged nemesis and smiled.  "I may bind those I cannot control, but I also free them against my better judgment.  What say you to that, Arod?"

The horse fixed him with a steely eye and then deliberately turned his hindquarters towards the door in what the Man would have sworn was an insult. 

Brow furrowed, Aragorn muttered quietly, "I still say living among the Elves has made you entirely too odd, my friend."  

The tail swished, but there was no response from Arod's rear.

The king shrugged and then strode over to where Legolas was leaning heavily on Disa's shoulder, eyes closed in pain.    
  
He lifted his hand and gently brushed a strand of sweat soaked hair from the pale forehead.  The tenderness of his expression was not seen by the pain wracked elf, but by Disa. 

The girl narrowed her eyes as she looked from Elf to king, and then shook her head sadly as she turned to open the door to the courtyard.  She could hear the wind howling through the heavy wood and knew that it would be a long, painful walk to the palace. 

Legolas gasped and opened his eyes again, meeting those of the King.  He could only lower his brows in concern as he concentrated on filling his lungs with sweet air.  

"Hold a moment, Disa."  Aragorn's voice made the girl jump.  She froze, hands on the door latch, as he pulled his heavy cloak off and wrapped it tightly around the Elf.  He then picked up the Elf with a grunt of effort.  

"Put. Me. Down."  Legolas grunted between clenched teeth, and flailed awkwardly in the arms that dared to touch him.  

"Behave or I'll drop you."  Contrary to his words, the king tightened his grip and then nodded to Disa.  The girl threw the latch and pulled open the door. 

The wind shrieked into the stables, almost pushing the man backwards.   He hesitated the barest moment and then leaned forward and walked into the storm.

The wind was piercing, and he started at the feel of the cold biting through his clothing.  Snow had begun to fall in heavy sheets, and it hissed in the air as it blew to and fro.  The whiteness was beginning to blanket the world and obscure his view of everything. He began to hurry. 

Snow flew around them as he made his way across the icy cobblestones.  The Elf in his arms began to shiver uncontrollably and then went tense in pain.  A pair of arms wrapped around his neck and a face buried itself against his chest.  He thought he might have heard a sob, but it was whipped away by the fierce wind.  

Disa walked next to him, trying to both guide him and steady him when his feet slipped on the slick ground.  Her dark hair was speckled by snow and for a moment he thought it resembled the stars in the night sky.   She looked over to him continuously, face drawn in worry, and he noticed the snowflakes melting in her eyelashes.  

The ungainly bundle in his arms grew heavier with every step, and the cold air burned his lungs while the sweat generated from his efforts froze on his skin.   The body in his arms went limp and then started to shiver violently again.  He could feel hot breath gasped onto his chest as he mounted the steps to the double doors of the great hall. 

Disa pulled open one of the doors, struggling with it as the wind tried to hold it closed.  With great yank, she finally wrenched it open and he was able to step out of the storm. 

The wind howled against the high windows of the great hall like a prowling beast and Legolas was reminded of the last time he had stepped through those doors in his own body.  His legs almost buckled when Aragorn gently lowered him to his feet and pulled the heavy cloak from his body.   Ice and snow fell to the ground around him.  Despite himself, he leaned against the man for support.  

"You have not gotten any lighter, my friend."  Aragorn's voice was teasing, hiding his concern at the pain filled expression.  

"I wonder who is at fault for that."  There was snarl in the elf's voice.  

Disa came forward and gently brushed more snow from Legolas' blonde hair.  "I must go and alert the household so that they can make all ready for you."  She paused and glanced at the king and then back to the Elf.  "I must inform _all interested parties of this.  Can you bear to have him help you back to the rooms or should I get someone else?  Perhaps I can find Lanelese?"  _

Aragorn wrapped his arms tenderly around the figure that leaned against him.  "I will carry Legolas to the rooms.  You do what you must."  He could feel the Elf stiffen as another wave of pain began.   He was unsure if the stiffening was from the pain or protest to his touch. 

Disa crooned in the back of her throat as Legolas groaned quietly and clenched his fists.   "There, there."  Her hands gently brushed the sweat soaked hair back from his neck and caressed his cheek gently.  She then turned her attention back to the king.  "You don't carry her.  A birthing mother must walk.  The more she walks, the faster the birth."  She put up a finger and silenced his protest.  "I have helped my mother and sisters birth seven children.  How many children have you helped bring forth?"  

The king sighed.  "None.  I am as ignorant of this as Legolas is, I fear."  

The girl frowned and then shook her head.  She touched Legolas' face as he began to pant for breath.  "I will get everything ready for you, Lady.   Soon you'll be done.  The pains will come faster and faster, and then your water break and the baby will pop out.  You'll see."  

"And then I will be free."   Legolas glared back at Aragorn as he breathed the words.  

"And then you will be free.  I swear it."   Aragorn lowered his eyes.  "I cannot bear the thought of you in such pain because of me.  My guilt is overwhelming.  I can do nothing but apologize over and over."  

Legolas hissed between clenched teeth as the pain began to build again.  "Piss on your apologies.  Just keep your promise."   A low moan was bitten off as the Elf hunched over the source of his agony again.  

Disa looked at the elf with worried eyes and then back to the king.  "Go at her speed and I'll be waiting when you get there."  She then turned and ran to the kitchens as fast as her feet would carry her.

A servant was dispatched to inform Valda of the situation so that the rooms could be made ready for the birthing.  Blankets must be prepared, water boiled, the birthing chair brought down, the cradle made up, the wet-nurse summoned.  The cook turned her attention from the dinner to making a hearty broth of beef and healing herbs for the new mother.  

And then Disa's feet turned to take her to the task she dreaded the most.

She climbed the stairs and then came to the simple wood door that opened into an even simpler and more modest office.  Her hands shook as she knocked lightly at that same door and she jumped despite herself when the door flew open suddenly.

Gilby had lit several lamps in his office, and their light gave his pale skin an almost warm cast.  His eyes glittered as he looked at the girl and then down the hallway to be sure she was alone.  Without a sound he gestured for her to come in and then quietly closed the door behind her.  

A large desk covered with scrolls and papers sat near the window that would normally have looked over the outer walls but now simply was gray and white from the storm outside.   She stared out the window for a long moment until the thin man cleared his throat and spoke.  "Well?  What brings you here, little Disa?"

Disa turned from the window and spoke quietly.  "The queen has been brought to her childbed, my lord."

Colorless eyes lit up and the thin lips raised themselves into a cold smile.  "That is good news.  How does she fare?"  

"Well enough, one would suppose.  The pains have come on much more quickly than I have seen before, but that could mean nothing.  Every woman is different when it comes to birthing."   She gave an involuntary shiver at his obvious pleasure.

Gilby turned to roll up the scroll that lay open on his desk and then back to the girl.  "You should be very happy now, Disa.  You'll be home by the end of the week." 

The girl lowered her brow in confusion.  "What do you mean?"

The thin man smiled as he picked up a sack from the corner.  "I mean nothing, dear girl, except that you would be wise to pack your bags."  He opened the sack and looked inside, and then closed it with a glance at her.  "The only way I would share my plans is if I intended to kill you afterwards.  Be grateful for your ignorance."  

Disa nodded numbly, knowing how close to death at this man's hands she had been before.  "Thank you, my lord."

Gilby nodded at this as if it were his due.  "I will not keep you any longer.  I expect you are needed to attend the queen."   He turned to blow out a lamp, the girl dismissed.  

Turning to leave, Disa hesitated and then took a deep breath.  "My lord," she asked, fear making her blood go colder than the storm outside, "Are you going to hurt her?"

Fixing her with a cold stare, Gilby smiled a ghastly smile that didn't reach his eyes.  "No, curious Disa.  I will not be hurting her.  She will be just fine if just a tad upset for a while, but I've never met a woman that couldn't learn her place when the lessons are given … strongly enough."  The man looked down at the sack in his hand.  "I would suggest you ask no more questions.  Surely your father warned you about badgering me as well?"

The girl visibly flinched, curtseyed to the exact proper degree and left the room.   This time her shaking was not from the cold of the halls. 

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Estra frowned at the king as she shook the snow from her braid.  The ride through a near blizzard had been bad enough, but to deal with this man was something near unbearable.  She took a deep breath and calmed herself.  "I said that you can wait outside."

Aragorn straightened.  "And I said I will be right here.  I want to help."

"You want to help?"  Estra repeated the words with a tone of disbelief.  "Haven't you done enough already?"  She fixed him with a steely glare.

Aragorn crossed his arms and glared back at her.  "I am fully aware of what I have done.  I wish to make amends however I can.  Let me do this."

The midwife threw her hands up in surrender.  "Fine.  You can stay.  But if you disrupt anything or interfere, if she wants you gone, you leave.  I want your word on that."

"I swear it."  He placed a hand over his heart and bowed slightly to her.  

Estra nodded sharply.  "Good.  Now go help her walk while I get everything ready."  She waved dismissal at him and then turned back to the fire to warm her hands and unpack her bag.   Clotild stood next to her, heating a cauldron of water and warming herself at the same time.  Braziers stood in the corners of the room, bringing the temperature to a bearable level.  

She then turned to look at the birthing chair and make sure that all was ready there.  The chair was tall and straight with a high back that could come out if the mother needed to lean back on someone.  A high stool sat before it, ready for the midwife to sit and guide a new life into the world.  A silver basin sat under the chair to catch the waters when they broke and to hold the afterbirth until it could be properly disposed.  

The wood was smooth under her fingers as she checked to be sure that there were no rough areas that would hurt the mother.   Childbirth was hard enough without adding in the thought of splinters.    She nodded her approval and then looked back to the elf.  

Legolas had been stripped to a light chemise that hung down to the ankle.  The long hair had been brushed out till there were no braids or knots and then pulled back into a loose scrap of leather.  Sweat shone on the high forehead and cheekbones.  Aragorn walked in front and held the small wrists in his larger hands.  She could read his lips as he exhorted the exhausted Elf to keep walking, to keep breathing.   She could also see the curl to the rosebud lip, as though the Elf wanted to snap back at the man but was in too much pain to do so.  She smiled at the thought.  Some things seemed universal to both humans and Elves.  

The door opened and Disa walked in, her face pale.  She took in the scene before her and then went to the far end of the room where Lanelese was to help prepare blankets and swaddling bands.  Estra nodded her approval.  The girl knew to keep busy.  Everyone in the room was set to their task and did it well.  Valda had overseen the setting of the braziers and of heavy tapestries on the walls to keep the heat in.  She had then fetched the wet-nurse and installed her in the front room to wait for the child to come.  She now sat and watched from the window seat, her hands busy as she finished knitting heavy booties for the child.  

Estra then frowned as she saw Legolas bend over again in pain as another contraction hit.  They were coming hard and fast, but the progress had not as great as she thought it should be.  She turned her timer over to count the minutes between the contractions.  Her brow was creased in worry.  

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"What is wrong with you?  You're as pale as a ghost."   Lanelese whispered to Disa as the stepped apart to fold a large blanket between the two of them.  

Disa grabbed the opposite corners and stretched out her hands, putting them together and then grabbing the new corner that formed.  The two of them then walked forward to put the ends together and Disa whispered, "I am afraid.  I had to tell Gilby about this, and he said… things.  I am afraid he is up to no good, but I don't know what to do."  Lanelese held the ends of the blanket up high and Disa picked up the bottom and matched it to the top edge and then continued.  "I'd tell Legolas but I don't think she's in any condition to tell me what to do right now."  

Lanelese furrowed her brow as she put the final fold in the blanket and stacked it behind her.  "No.  I don't think so.  Have you told anyone else?"  

Disa shook her head.  "I don't know who to turn to or trust anymore, except for the people here."  

Blue eyes glittering in the lamplight, Lanelese looked around the room.  "Very true.  But there is one we can trust now."  She then grabbed Disa's hand and dragged her through the door to the sitting room.   Their exit was so fast that few noted it.  

Arnlaug and Regin sat in front of a roaring fire waiting for the birth of the heir.  It was a tradition that the Chancellor would be up waiting so that he could witness and accept the child as heir for the people of Gondor.   He was overjoyed to finally be doing this part of his duty.  

The smell of mulled wine filled the air.  Their conversation was quiet and subdued and then stopped completely when they noticed the two women.  

"Lanelese.  Disa."  Arnlaug acknowledged them with a nod.  "Is there news?"  

Lanelese shook her head.  "Not about that, my lord Chancellor.  But Disa has something disturbing to tell you that may need your attention."  She then looked questioningly at Regin.  

Arnlaug saw the look and shook his head.  "You can speak freely around Portmaster Regin," He shifted his gaze to Disa.  "What is it, Child?"

Disa raised her eyes from their modest state to look at the Chancellor.  He was a bear of a man, but kind and gentle.   She swallowed hard.  "I…  I had to report to Gilby about the queen going into labor."  She winced inwardly when she saw his face darken and added quickly, "Legolas had me reporting to him so that we could control all that he knew about the household."  She closed her eyes and continued.  "But when I told him that she was in labor, he was pleased and told me that I should pack my bags and that I would be home before the end of the week."  She then opened and looked at him again with large eyes.  "He had a sack with something in it and said that the queen would be upset but learn to accept her place soon enough." 

Both men were silent.  After a long moment, Disa nervously into the quiet.  "I asked him what he intended, but he wouldn't tell me."  

Arnlaug turned to the fire.  "No, he wouldn't tell you.  You're just one of his tools, and a female one at that."  He shrugged his shoulders.  "He doesn't think much of females, much to my wife's disgust."  He sighed and turned to Regin.  "What think you?"

"I think we need to find him.  And quickly."  Regin levered himself from his chair and turned back to Arnlaug.  "It figures he'd do this during the worst storm yet.  I think he does it to vex us."  

The Chancellor grunted and then stood.  "Let us hope we can find him in time." 

The two men bustled from the room, Lanelese and Disa forgotten.  Lanelese took the girl by the hand.  "You've done everything you could, Disa.  I pray it was enough."  

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Legolas was exhausted.  He had been walking in circles for what seemed to be hours, fighting the pains, using all of his focus so that he would not scream in agony.  He had finally wrapped his arms around Aragorn's neck and allowed the man to half drag him around the room.  The man had done this without question, whispering encouragement and caressing the long hair as the contractions became increasingly powerful and longer.  If Legolas had strength in his limbs or breath in his lungs he would have thrown off the man's hands and cursed at him.  Instead he simply laid his head on the broad shoulder and drowsed in between pains.  

A feather light touch on his shoulder roused him from his stupor and he tiredly raised his head to look at Estra.   The lines in her face were smoothed by the firelight and her hair had taken on golden hints.  She looked ageless.  Her mouth was set in a frown as she began to speak.  He had to strain to hear her voice; it came from so far away.

"You need to stop fighting this, Legolas."  She was blunt as usual.  "Your body is trying to have this child, but your mind is fighting it.  The more you fight against the contractions by not relaxing and breathing through them, the more you slow down your labor."  

Legolas shook his head in denial.  "This is not my body."  He was too exhausted to say anything further, but she already knew all his arguments.

"If you're inside this body, it's your body."  Her tone was sharp at first, but then softened.  "The baby is going to come whether you want it or not.  All you can do is make it harder or easier on yourself.  And you've already made it harder."   She sighed and tried again. "Don't hold your breath through the pain, but breathe through it.  Relax your body and accept what is happening.  Don't be afraid to make noise or show that it hurts.  No one here will fault you for it." 

The Elf shook his head but was too weak to answer.   Aragorn stroked the hair again and then spoke softly to the midwife.  "We have fought together and I've seen him stand his ground against more horrible creatures than you could ever imagine.  I've also seen him endure horrible wounds and pain far worse than this.  But I have never seen him like this before.  Why?"  

Estra sighed and looked into the glazed eyes of the elf.  Drowsing again.  "Because the pain is not from outside, but from inside.  You cannot stop it, you cannot ignore it, you cannot make it go away.  It is not from an enemy's sword or axe, but from within.  I would think he feels as though his very body betrays him."  She smoothed the golden hair back as blue eyes focused on her again, this time filled with pain as another contraction started.   "Betrayal has become commonplace in this one's life, it seems." 

She frowned as the eyes closed in concentration and the lips compressed into a line.  A small whimper sounded in the back of Legolas' throat, but there was no other sound.  "Breathe with it", she whispered sharply, but there was no response from the Elf.  

The midwife's eyes narrowed her eyes as she reached over, took the slender shoulders in her hands and shook hard.  Legolas' eyes flew open, his concentration broken.  He sucked in a pain filled breath and then began to gasp.  "Breathe", she repeated.  "Breathe in, breathe out.  Let the pain go through you and work for you.  Relax into it."    He tried to clamp down on the sounds coming from his mouth but he could not prevent a low moan of pain from escaping along with the breaths he was taking.  The hurt receded and he felt boneless as he leaned up against the broad chest in front of him.  He barely made out Estra's voice next to him, her tone much happier.  "Good.  A few more like that and we'll be getting somewhere."  

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Gilby made his way to the shed in the garden, glad of the storm that hid him from view.  He opened the door and let himself into the warmth that was there.  The tip of his nose tingled with the sudden temperature change and he dropped his sack next to the door while he divested himself of his cloak.  The wind wailed outside as if reading his purpose.  He smiled grimly at that thought.  

Arick stood and bowed to the councilor.  With a wave of his hand, Gilby spoke.  "Go back to the hall and get something hot to eat, Arick.  I wish to have harsh words with our friend here.  I'll come get you when I'm done."  

The guard raised an eyebrow but would not disobey.  He collected his cloak and left.  

Gilby watched the hulking guard leave and then turned to the cell.  "The queen", he started directly, "is in her childbed.  What do you think she'll bring forth?"

Davyn half reclined, half sat in a chair.  His increasing weakness had become more and more evident over the past few days and even now he was barely able to move.  "A baby?"  He had lost none of his wit, however.  

The thin man smiled an unpleasant smile at the mage.  "Yes, a baby."  His smile became more feral. "A baby with an impeccable royal linage that needs to be raised to be a proper ruler for Gondor.  A future king needing a proper education and upbringing."

The mage wrinkled his brow, but said nothing.

Gilby took his silence for encouragement and continued.  "The queen will bring forth a child.  She will insist on being returned to her normal form by you."  A pale finger pointed to the mage.  "She would be lost to us forever, and I cannot allow that."  

"And how would you prevent this, Gilby?"  Davyn groaned as he leaned forward.  "The king has already forbidden you to force her to stay."

"The king doesn't know what is good for this realm.  He would best serve his kingdom if he turned over his powers to a regency.  He could easily retire from the public eye after the two of them have provided us with the heirs we need."

Davyn raised an eyebrow.  "Treason, my friend, falls very easily from your lips.  Why do you share it with me?"

Gilby walked back to the door and latched it from the inside, testing the tightness of the lock.  He then picked up the sack he had left at the door when he'd entered the room.  "The king will have to die, you know.  He won't give up his powers willingly.  I'd thought of imprisoning him, but he would escape."  

His hands dug into the sack as he spoke in a light voice, almost as if discussing the weather.  "And the queen would revert to her true form if he died.  That would be most unpleasant.  I'd actually thought about having you take her spell and turning the focus from him to me."  He looked up at the mage and smiled.  "She is very beautiful, and I thought it would be fitting for a Regent to take a royal wife.  I could easily put aside the one I have now and force the Elf to accept me after a fitting period of mourning for the king.  She would do it to protect the children that I would raise."   

Davyn spoke in a quiet voice.  "I am too weak to do that now, even if I would agree to it." 

With a nod, Gilby agreed.  "Oh yes.  And the last thing I want is for you to have any power or strength."  He laughed silently.  "I cannot trust you, you cannot trust me.  We understand this about each other."  He drew from the sack a length of woolen blanket, cut into strips and tied together into a rope.  The wool was the same as the blankets on the cot in the cell.  "So it comes down to this.  I have plans for the queen to remain the way she is.  Her child I will raise properly as befits a ruler of Gondor, and the king I will either control or eliminate.  If I can get them to produce a second heir before I do this, even better."

Davyn's eyes widened in understanding.  "What if this child is a girl?  A girl cannot take the throne." 

"No, she can't.  But I have a lovely son to marry her to if needs be.  Then he can ascend the throne and I will be the father of a king.  If the child is a boy, then I raise the king as my own.  Either way I have many years of power as Regent."  He took the blanket rope and tossed one end of it up over the rafter that crossed over the cell.  The end fell on the table next to the mage, the end already tied into a noose.   "So, you see, I can't lose.  All I have to do is remove all the variables and remove the thing that will keep them from producing the heir and a spare.  You." 

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Legolas felt the cold wood of the chair beneath his buttocks.   The back had been removed and he leaned slightly back against Aragorn's chest.  The man's arms were under his breasts, and helped support him.   Estra sat on her stool and looked up, waiting.  

"Push!"  Estra shouted. 

"Push what?"  Legolas gasped back through the pain. 

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It took everything that Davyn had to stand and lean against the table as the councilor opened the door and strolled into the cell.  "You mean to kill me now, then?"

"Yes.  So sorry."  Gilby's hands were deceptively thin.  They certainly didn't look as strong as they were.  Davyn was yanked forward and lifted onto a chair almost casually.  "No one will come to stop me because the entire city is focused on what is happening up in that room upstairs.   No one remembers you're alive right now, and no one will care that you're dead once they have an heir.  It's perfect."   The noose went down over the tattooed neck and was tightened cruelly.  "Especially since you're going to kill yourself, you know.  I mean, you ripped up your own blanket and made a rope while I went to go fetch your guard after our discussion about what you'll suffer after you've restored to Elf to his true form."  There was a light chuckle.  

"You are a reprehensible human being."  Davyn loaded the phrase with as much sarcasm as he could while his weak fingers futilely tried to undo the knot at the back of his neck.  

"And you're a glowing paragon of virtue, Davyn."  Gilby responded in kind as he stepped back to the other end of the woolen rope and wrapped it around one of the ironwood bars. 

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Legolas leaned forward as he sobbed in pain and bore down with all his strength.  The arms wrapped around his chest helped steady him against the strong chest behind.  His hands grasped the arms of the chair in a white knuckled grip.  He then relaxed and rested for a few seconds, gathering his strength to do it again.  

Estra gently rubbed the inside of his thigh and coaxed him, "You're doing fine.  Now push harder."   He sobbed in exhaustion and then looked up for the first time since he'd been in the chair.  

The woman in the mirror looked back at him from over Estra's back.  The fair face was red with effort and strain.   His eyes shifted to what was happening between her legs and her face expression changed from fatigue to shock and terror.  His breath died in his lungs and then he felt something inside him break.  "Cover the mirror."  He was barely able to breathe the words.  

"What?"  Aragorn leaned forward to hear him.  

"Cover the mirror."  Legolas sobbed aloud.  "COVER THE MIRROR!" This time he screamed the words and then caught his breath as another wave of pain washed over him, another urge to push out the child that he knew in his mind that he couldn't be having even though his body WAS having it right then and there.   He leaned forward and pushed, screaming in the agony of mental surrender as he did so.  He was not male, he was female, he was trapped and having a child that he would be forced to leave behind.  He was doing something that his mind could not accept except for the fact that he had seen in the mirror the child's head crowning from between his legs. 

Lanelese ran forward and flipped a sheet over the looking glass. 

He collapsed, limp against Aragorn, eyes wild with a tenuous grip on sanity, his mind on the brink of breaking. 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0—00- 

Davyn felt his feet leave the wood of the chair and wrapped his hands around the wool rope.  Gilby hauled on the rope, raising the mage up another few inches.  Davyn gagged and quickly considered his options.  He already knew that there was no escape from this situation that would leave him alive, so he now had to figure what would cause the most damage to his enemy.  

He fingered the wool and felt the natural oils in it.  He curled his lip in a pained sneer.  It would conduct energy, but not well.  Most of it would be lost in the transmission.  But this was his final strike, so what did it matter if there was a little waste?  It was with a true feeling of irony that he realized his actions now would actually help those he wanted to hurt the most.  

The mage closed his eyes and summoned up the life force that he bore deep inside and channeled it through his fingers into the woolen rope.  The raw power flared and flowed in a bright blue light down the rope and through the bars into Gilby's body.   

The councilor's body began to jerk and twitch with the influx of energy.  His hands tightened on the rope reflexively as all the muscles in his body0 contracted.   A high keening cry escaped from the thin man's lips as his skin and eyes began to smoke.  And then Gilby burst into an eerie blue flame.  The high pitched noise continued for a few more moments and then stopped.   

0-0-0-00-0-0-00-00-00-0-0-

Legolas drew himself up and bore down again, tears flowing freely.  A grunt of effort escaped his lips as he felt something give down below. 

"Stop.  Pant like a dog."  Estra's command was sharp and he obeyed instantly.   He was incapable of coherent thought at the moment.  

He could see Estra holding something in her hand, wiping something with a rag.  He then closed his eyes and turned his head into Aragorn's neck, hiding his face from whatever it was down there.   He could feel the king leaning forward, looking eagerly and breathing out in wonder and joy.  

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Davyn swung from the rafter, his feet twitching spasmodically as his face turned blue and then black.  His swollen tongue fell from his lips and he breathed his last in a rattling gurgle.   

Thus died Mage Davyn, former servant of Sauron, and last of his kind.

0-0-0-0-0-0—00-0-0-0-

"One more push, Legolas.  One more."  Estra's voice was not as sharp as before, but he obeyed just the same, eyes still closed and face hidden.  

He closed his eyes even tighter, hid his face even more when he felt the strange feeling of something being pulled from within him and heard the first cries of an infant.  

Thus was born the child of Aragorn and Legolas.

And the snow hissed against the window panes as the heavens wept. 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"A girl."  Estra's voice rang out over the squalling of the child.  "A beautiful, perfect girl." 

Legolas clamped his eyes shut even tighter and turned his head away from the sound.  

"Do you not wish to see her?  She's beautiful.  Look what you have given me."  Aragorn's voice was awed.  

The elf shook his head and tried not to hear the cries.  "No.  I have given you nothing.  You took what you wanted.  Now free me."

He could hear the child being taken away, her cries becoming fainter as they carried her into the front room to the wet-nurse who waited there.  The howling continued unabated, but was filtered slightly by the door.  

Legolas finally opened his eyes and looked down at the midwife who was still perched on her stool between his legs.  "We're not done yet."  Estra smiled gently.  "But we're done with the worst part."  He nodded numbly.  

Valda tapped Aragorn on the shoulder.  "Come. Clotild can take your place while you come see your child."  

The king nodded and allowed the maid to sit behind the exhausted elf. His feet barely touched the ground as he thought about the joy of holding his infant daughter for the first time.  

Together he and Valda made their way into the sitting room where the infant was yowling at the top of her lungs.  The wet-nurse, a vacant eyed brown haired woman, was desperately trying to get the child to nurse.  

The child's entire body was a bright, angry red with eyes closed in rage as she screamed her fury again and again at the world.  The nipple was put into her mouth, and then rejected.  The woman then tried to dribble a little milk into the open mouth but the child gurgled and choked, refusing to swallow.    The woman kept trying, much to the child's dismay.

Arnlaug and Regin walked in at that moment, their faces showing apprehension. 

Aragorn thought it was from the child's screaming.   "Look, Chancellor!"  He gestured proudly at the screaming child.  "I have a daughter for you to recognize."  

The Chancellor looked down at the child and then at his liege again.  "A daughter?  I accept her as your child for the people of Gondor.  Many congratulations."   He shook his head.  "I was hoping for a son, of course, but I'm not complaining.  She certainly sounds healthy."  

Regin snorted.  "If the daughter is half as beautiful as the mother, every kingdom under the sun will be trying for a marriage alliance by the time she's walking.  A daughter is just as important as a son."  

Nodding his agreement with this point, Arnlaug's face turned grim.  "My Leige, I have bad news to report.  Any other news I would not disrupt your bliss with, but this is important."

The king frowned.  "What?"

Regin cleared his throat.  "We were informed that Gilby might be making a move of some sort while everyone was distracted.  Our informant was correct, unfortunately."

Arnlaug nodded. "We searched his offices and his quarters first, then the barracks thinking he might be contacting one of his operatives for something covert.  We went last to see Davyn, who he has been conspiring with for quite a while.  It was there that we found…"  The old man shook his head at the memory of what they had found.  The smell had been the worst part.

"We had to kick in the door because he'd locked it from the inside.  He'd strung up Davyn on a rope made from wool blankets -- we think to make it look like a suicide.  The one thing he didn't count on was Davyn retaliating in some way.  Gilby was… burned.   Horribly burned.   They were both long gone by the time we got in, My lord."  He wiped a hand over his tired face.  "We've failed you." 

Aragorn sat down hard next to the wet-nurse and the still screaming child, his expression shocked.  "This will kill Legolas, you know.  The only thing that has kept him sane has been the knowledge that he would be restored once this child was born.  He will surely die of grief when he hears this."  

Valda turned from where she had been watching the wet-nurse try to feed the struggling child.  "Then we will have to give her a reason to live."  She gently took the child from the dull eyed woman and rocked the infant gently.   "I say her because there is no hope of a restoration to her former self.  We will have to force her to realize this, and force her to accept the child."  

"I promised."  The king covered his face with his hands.  "I promised again and again that he would be free after this."  

Valda only shook her head.  "You know as well as I that the only way he can be free now is if you were to die."  She turned and faced the rest of them.  "Not a word, not a breath of this to anyone, and especially not to her."  She turned back towards the bedroom with a rustling of skirts that was drowned out by the wailing of the child.  

Legolas leaned back against Clotild and drowsed.   Estra was busily laying stitches in an area that had torn, but he felt no pain, strangely enough.  Perhaps it was because his spirit was lightened by the thought that he would soon be free.  Free of this form, free of this place, free of Gondor.  

He was so lost in dreams that at first he did not hear the screaming of his daughter when Valda walked back in.   It was the calm sound of her voice that roused him.  "It is as we feared, Estra.  The child will not nurse from a human." 

"But…"  The midwife cut off her protest for some reason.

Legolas focused his eyes on the countess as she held the squalling bundle against her chest.  He then closed his eyes and looked away.   "No."  He spoke the word from the bottom of his soul.

"You must."  Valda's voice was equally deep.  

"No."  He shook his head in denial of everything.   The child screamed louder and turned redder, if that were possible.  

Aragorn then spoke.  "You must."  

Valda leaned forward as though to pass the child to him.  He threw up his hands and sobbed.  "NO!"  Flailing his arms weakly, he tried to push them away, but hit the child's leg instead.  "NO!!  You can't do this to me."  

Clotild gasped behind him and was pushed out of the way by Aragorn, who settled again in back of him, this time holding the thrashing arms still as Legolas began to weep.   

"It would be a shame for this little one to die after all the work you've done in birthing her."  Valda's voice was smoothest reason.  "If you deny her your breast she will die, and you would have killed her.  What would your father say to that?"  

Legolas froze at those words.  "No.  You said you'd find someone else."  Tears ran down his cheeks as he realized the enormity of what they were saying.  He turned to Aragorn.  "You promised.  You swore."  The king nodded sadly.

"We did find someone else, but she won't nurse from a human.  Do you see any Elven wet-nurses here?"  This time Valda did move forward with the child.  She pulled the neck of the chemise open and laid the child awkwardly against his left breast. 

Estra leaned forward and helped steady the child, her face drawn with sadness.  The child instantly stopped crying and began to root for the nipple.  The midwife deftly helped the child find it, and smiled when the child instantly latched on and began to suckle.  "Hold her like this."  Estra then took Legolas' arms and arranged them around the baby in the proper way.  "Always support her head."  

Legolas made as though to push the child away, but his arms were held in place by the man behind him, strong dark arms over his own pale ones.   

Aragorn leaned over  the pale shoulder , watched the child vigorously nurse and smiled.  "What shall we call little no-name, Legolas?  It is our custom here that the women name the girls.  Do you have a name for her?"

Legolas stared at the thing in his arms and tried to process the sensation of a child nursing at his breast.  He shook his head numbly, unable to speak.  

"I have a name for her then.   Luthiél, after your mother."

The child made small noises as she nursed, and Legolas stared down at her.  A head full of silky, fine dark hair covered a delicate ear with an even more delicate point.  Her skin, once an angry red, was fading into a pearly pink color.  

He started at his daughter for what seemed days before he took one small hand into his own and began to count the tiny fingers.  


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Don't own em, don't want to own em, except maybe Legs in that leather shoulder armor from TTT.  Elves in leather… .MMMMmmmmm.  

Uhm… I know this is late and I know I suck.  Sorry.  Real life and all that.  

The next one won't be nearly as long in coming since I already have about 1/3 of that one already written.

Thanks to Al for much needed beta, and to Jasta for the baby's name.  Forgot to mention that last time.

Oh… and my reviewers rock.  All of them.  Including the one that called me a sick freak.  I giggled about that for hours afterwards.  

It was a much needed healing sleep that Legolas slept, but there was no rest to be found.  Flame and shadow danced on the back of his lids, the red and black coloring his dreams in shades of urgency and fear.  Something was wrong somewhere.  Somehow he knew deep inside that there was danger. 

 The blonde head tossed first one direction, then the other, and then jerked upright as a noise penetrated through the darkness that filled his thoughts.  

Legolas opened his eyes to find himself propped nude in the great bed, the room empty.  A small gasp escaped his lips as he realized where he was, and then a small sigh as he remembered what had come to pass.  He blinked in the firelight as he raised a hand to press on what had been his swollen abdomen.   

His abdomen was still distended, but not to the extent it had been before.  And it felt strangely empty.  He shook his head as he realized that he missed the constant feeling of movement that had become so much a part of him.

It was at that moment that he realized that he was not alone. 

Next to him in the bed rested the child.  Her small limbs pumped with great energy as she fought to kick off her swaddling clothes.  She grunted with the effort as her legs flailed almost uncontrollably.  He winced at the memory of those small feet pummeling him from the inside.  _::I don't miss THAT feeling.::_

The room was cold, he realized.  Very cold.  And as he shivered in the chill air, he realized how much colder it must be for her.  Hesitantly, he reached and tried to pull the blankets back over her.  

She froze for a moment, and then her body stiffened as she felt the blankets go on again.  With a mewling sound of protest she began to kick harder.  She sounded for all the world like an enraged kitten.  He smiled despite himself.

He watched her struggle and felt his smile grow wider.  It seemed she was much like him in so many ways, more ways than he would like to admit.  He knew already that she wouldn't give up until the blankets were down to her feet.  She didn't care that she would be cold after she'd removed the offending items, just as long as she got them off.  She'd deal with the rest later.   Yes, entirely too much like him for his comfort.

Legolas leaned forward and covered her again, this time pulling the blankets up higher, making it more difficult for her to thrust them off.

Luthiél paused for a moment, her small mouth pursed in what he thought might be confusion, or perhaps frustration.  He would be frustrated in her place.  He was frustrated in his place, too.  He absently ran a finger down her arm, feeling the satiny smoothness of her skin and wondering at how small and helpless she was, but so strong at the same time. 

She then leaned her head back and began to wail, her back arching up, the sound echoing off the walls.   

Surprised, Legolas bolted to the far side of the bed and watched the child with wide eyes.  He then groaned as his abused muscles gave a delayed reaction and protested the sudden movement.  _::Surely I should be well healed by now.  Perhaps my strength is still sapped from her taking it into herself.::  He narrowed his eyes at the child. __ ::She has taken everything from me.  I have nothing left to give.::  _

No sooner was his thought finished then he was filled with shame.  _::She has done nothing to me and does not deserve my rancor.   I can think of others much more deserving of my ill will.::  He closed his eyes and shook his head, overcome by the feelings of guilt from resenting a babe. _

The screams intensified, going from a thin wail to a full blown howl.  Legolas cringed, turned his head away from her and covered his ears.  He glimpsed the rags he had been sleeping on and winced.  The sight of blood had never affected him before, but the fact that it was his and there was so much of it must have made a difference.  He felt queasy and weak at the same time.   

Luthiél screamed louder, making a sharp pain shoot behind his eyes.  He shook his head and covered his face with his hands.  The wailing paused as the babe breathed in deeply, but then continued stronger than before.  Legolas could feel his hands shake as he began to thread his fingers through the long strands of his hair and unconsciously twist and pull what he grasped. 

"Any minute now, they will come bursting through that door to take care of whatever need it is you have," He whispered quietly to himself, or perhaps to the child who steadfastly ignored him and continued to scream.  "Any minute now.  They know that I don't know what to do with you, or even want to know what to do with you."

He shivered on the far side of the bed and waited as the cold seeped into his bones.  "Any minute now."  But there was no response, no Valda bustling through the door to make the child stop screaming, no Clotild or Lanelese to sweep the baby up and away from him so he could rest.

He turned his eyes back to the baby again.  "Luthiél'", the name stuck in his throat for a moment -- painful memories of the one who bore the name before -- but he swallowed down the lump.  "Luthiél, I don't know what you want.  I don't speak your language."  He laughed bitterly to himself at the thought that she might be screaming to him some arcane instructions in some common language that all children were born with, but then forgot as they grew.  He then painfully crawled forward, coming face to face with his daughter.   

Her eyes were blue, as blue as his, as blue as his father's.  The hair was dark and silky, but seemed to be lighter than the last time he'd seen her.  Delicate ears came to small points, hidden under hair that he halfway suspected would soon be a dark blonde, and the lips were like small pink petals.  She was beautiful.  Terrifying, but beautiful.   

Legolas leaned forward and gingerly touched the small face with a finger, trying to calm her.  Luthiél's face was hot with screaming and almost burned the pads on his fingers.  He traced the roundness of a cheek and followed it down to the folds of neck.  Everything about her was so small and so delicate, so very helpless.    "Quiet.  Just until they get here, little one.  I don't know what to do to help you."  He traced his finger over her lips and made a shushing sound to soothe her.   His look of confusion changed to one of surprise when the child began to suck vigorously on his extended finger, small sounds of contentment escaping the back of her throat. .  

"Are you hungry?"  He asked the question as if expecting a response.  After a moment he shook his head in disgust at his own stupidity as he realized what exactly it was that she wanted.  He flinched and pulled his finger from the small mouth.  The baby craned her neck and began to scream again, even more heartily this time.  

Legolas' entire body shook as he buried his face in his hands.  Peering from between his fingers at the small figure that still kicked frantically while she screamed her rage at the world, he knew exactly what she wanted.  And he knew what such a thing would cost him.   It was a price he was unwilling to pay.  Not for Aragorn, not for anyone.   Not even for the small child that wailed in front of him.  

 The door was still shut, and there was still silence behind it.  And Legolas was alone in the room with the one creature he feared more than any Mirkwood spider or Balrog.  

"I'm sorry!"  He sobbed.  "I don't know what you want.  I don't know how to give it to you."  He knew that he was lying. 

Tears fell down the small red cheeks and onto the mattress as Luthièl continued to wail.  She knew the truth.   

Legolas gave a growl of frustration and then leaned forward over the child, his hair falling around both their faces like a golden screen, the firelight dappling it with shadow and shade.  "What do you want from me?"   Luthièl hiccupped for a moment as she watched the light play on the long hair, and moved in spasmodic motions as if to grasp the tresses and yank them. "Am I not to have anything of myself left?   Can you not leave some small part of me intact?  Must everything that I am be taken away?"  She skillfully ignored his questions, her small whimpers making his heart ache almost as much as the feeling of despair that caused his voice to hitch.  

Legolas sat up and pulled his hair behind his ears and winced as Luthièl began to wail again.  

Arms crossed over his chest, he fixed the infant with a hard eye.  "No.  I can't.  I won't.  You can't make me do this.  You'll have to find some other way."   He straightened his shoulders and made to turn his back to her.  

The babe snuffled for a moment and made a gurgling sound so different from her screams that Legolas looked back to her without thinking.  Her struggles had been successful and the blankets now pooled around her small feet.  He shivered in the chill room, and then put his hand to his face and shook his head.  "Why?  Why am I so worried that you might die?   I have brought forth a mortal, and you will wither and die before my eyes.  You were born to die, be it now or in years.  Why should I care?"

She gurgled again and then whimpered.  He could feel something in his chest rip, almost as if he could feel his heart breaking.  He sighed, placed his hands under her arms and clumsily picked her up, treating her as though she were made of spun glass.  Her head flopped awkwardly as he lifted her up and looked into her eyes.  

He gazed at her for what seemed an eternity, even to him.  Some small part of him, something buried deep within, something he never knew existed, seemed to stir as he stared into the eyes that were so young and yet so old at the same time.  He shook his head, trying to deny what he felt.  "I care.  How could I not?  But if not for you, I would already be gone from here.  What say you to that?"   He said it without heat or rancor, but still felt the overwhelming sense of guilt rise up again. 

She blinked back at him, her legs kicking as she hung there from his hands.  Almost as if answering him, she cooed.    

After a long moment, he awkwardly gathered her into his arms and cradled her against his tender breasts.  

She cried for moment and then began to root desperately for the nipple that she knew was there, that she could smell.  When she found it she latched on, causing Legolas to cry out softly in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain.  As she began to suckle he gently stroked her face.  "Don't get too comfortable with this, little one.   I'm still not convinced that this is the best solution for our problem." 

She grumbled back at him, much too involved in her meal to pay heed to his doubts.  Her small hand twined itself into a lock of his hair and seemed to brush it back and forth across her face as she vigorously suckled.  

After she had finished nursing from both breasts, she then yawned and fell asleep in his arms.  He held her there, unsure of what to do next, and then gently laid her down where she had been and curled himself around her, pulling the blankets over them both as he drifted back into an exhausted sleep filled with dark dreams and vague warnings.

He woke when Clotild gently stroked his face and whispered into his ear, "Time to change her.  Let me have her, Lady."  Legolas realized that he had clutched the sleeping infant close to his chest and wrapped his legs up to curl around her.  

After Clotild had taken Luthièl away, Lanelese and Disa brought a light meal and a warm nightshift.  They changed the bedding while he bathed and then helped him back into the bed.  His exhaustion was such that he didn't mind being there as much as he might have.  He slipped back into the dark realm of slumber with Lanelese's voice still in his ears.  "Sleep now, because she certainly won't let you sleep later, Lady.  She'll keep us all jumping, you wait and see." 

His dreams were still full of foreboding and unease.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-000-0-00-0-0-0-0-

The king of Gondor was besotted.  Everyone knew it.  How could they not, when he acted as though the sun rose and set on his daughter? 

Valda crossed the great hall to stand near the fireplace and await his notice.  He glanced at her and then back down to the squirming bundle in his arms.  

"Oh, and here's Auntie Valda, come to take you away from me again!"  His voice had traveled up several octaves into the range audible by bats and small burrowing mammals.  The child in his arms squirmed and cooed back at him while Valda restrained the urge to cover her ears and hiss at him to stop before her ears bled. 

Instead, she merely shook her head and smiled tightly.  "Why do you insist on taking her with you everywhere you go?  Legolas will have a hard enough time bonding to her as it is, and when Luthièl is with you, she cannot be there to charm her mother into loving her."

The king furrowed his brows and then smiled down at the baby in his arms.  "Because," he started, again in the high pitched voice that made Valda grind her teeth, "once Nana finds out what has happened, she'll use my living guts for garters, yes she will!"  He lowered his whiskered jaw to the small face and gently rubbed it onto the rounded cheeks and forehead.  "Yes, she will!  She's very fierce when angry, Nana is!  And how will Ada get to know and love his beautiful girl when he's dead and gone?"  He smiled up at Valda, but there was a tinge of sadness in his eyes.  

Valda looked down at her own stomach and smiled back at the king.  "She'll be hungry soon.  I need to take her back so she can nurse.  And so her mother can hold her and smell her and get used to the feel of her.  You know as well as I do what the cost of not letting them bond will be."

Luthièl squirmed and cooed at him as he looked back down at the precious bundle in his arms.  "Shall I take you back to Nana myself, pretty one?  Shall I?"  He looked up with a smile.  "She says yes.  I'll take her up myself, Valda.  Will you walk with me?"

Valda curtseyed.  "Anything for my Lord.  As long as you don't talk in that voice the entire way back.  I don't think my nerves could take it."

Aragorn laughed quietly as he tickled his daughter's tiny feet and stood up.  "I promise, dear Countess."  He sobered.  "How is Legolas?"  

"Well enough, I would say."  She shrugged.  "You'll see for yourself, I suppose.  The first few weeks are hard enough for anyone to accept, much less someone in her… unique situation.  Add to that the exhaustion of having such a demanding child constantly at your breast, much less the shock of having a breast to have a child at, and I think you'll have an idea of what we have." 

The King shook his head.  He shifted Luthièl to ride on his chest, small head looking over his shoulder as she propped her unsteady head up to take in the world around them with wide blue eyes.   "I did not want this to happen, Valda.  You know this."  

Nodding her head, the Countess silently acknowledged that fact.   "How long do you want to wait before you tell her what happened?"

"As long as possible, I suppose.  At least until I'm sure that the immediate reaction won't be to keel over and die of grief."  He sighed.  "I promised.  I promised he'd go free as soon as this was over.  I promised until I was blue in the face, and you see where my promises have led?  Nowhere."  He spit the last word out bitterly.   "I can't even control my own Kingdom enough to make sure that my promises are kept.  How telling is that?"  The anger was thick in his voice.  

Valda cleared her throat as they turned down the hallway to the Queen's chambers.  "Gilby was a special case, My Lord.  He wanted power, and he convinced himself that it was for the good of Gondor.  He didn't care who suffered in his quest for the greater good, even if the greater good was for no one but him." 

Aragorn shook his head again.  "That sounds entirely too familiar to be comfortable, Valda.  I know how it feels to think that way."  

"I know.  Those who think themselves the most noble and incorruptible are those who are the weakest.  And I think you know this."  Valda slowly opened the heavy oak door and bowed him into the warm rooms.  

Legolas drowsed in the window seat, the snow covered world laid out before him.  Ice crystals gleamed on the branches of the trees and sparkled as if they were diamonds hung to adorn the bare limbs.   _::Father would appreciate that visual.  He was always inordinately fond of jewels:: He smiled to himself sadly as a pang of homesickness flared into his heart.  __::I wonder what Father would say about having a mortal grandchild?  I'm quite sure he wouldn't be too happy.::   He shifted slightly and drew a knee up to his chest, a position that he had not been able to assume for quite a while.  __::But I think he would be even more unhappy about not knowing her.  He loves children, no matter what they are, and his own and theirs above all else.::_

He sighed, unhappy with his thoughts, and drew his knee tighter to his chest.  He hissed in pain as he accidentally squeezed a painfully full breast, and then leaned back against the wall.   

The cold did not affect him nearly as much as it had and he felt almost as normal as he had felt in a female body.    Clotild had remarked this very morning while she dressed him that it was almost as though he had never borne a child.  His waist was small, his stomach flat.  Only his hips and breasts gave any indication of what he had gone through a few weeks ago.   

He sat a little straighter when he heard voices in the sitting room.  Even if he couldn't hear Luthièl's crying, the pain and tightness in his breasts told him that it was almost time for her to nurse.  

Valda peeked around the corner, and then opened the door wider at his nod and allowed Aragorn to enter.  The king smiled widely and then turned his back to the Elf, showing the small face that peered over his shoulder.  "Look here, Nana!  Look how strong I am, holding myself up all by myself!"  The head was anything but steady, but the eyes were bright and wide.

A small smile tugged at Legolas' lips despite his best efforts as he moved over to the chair in front of the fire and began to unlace his bodice.  He sighed silently in relief as the pressure was slightly lessened.

The king made a disappointed sound as Lanelese appeared from nowhere, swept the baby from his arms and began to change the wet clout.  Luthièl began to squall as the cold air hit her warm skin and then began to cry louder and suck her fists, almost as if she had been too distracted to realize how hungry she was until just that moment.  

Lanelese cooed down at the baby, blue eyes flashing and cheeks flushed with pleasure.  "I cannot wait until I have a baby just like you, little one!  I tell Bryn every day we must work harder so that I will have a playmate for you!  Work day in, work day out!  Work, work, work!  And he complains of it too, as if it were such a bad thing!  Never trust a man, little one."   She looked up at the king and smiled.  "No offense meant, Majesty."  

Aragorn laughed heartily.  "None taken."  He hooked a small stool from in front of the fire with his foot and dragged it to sit in front of Legolas, elbows on knees.   "May I stay and talk to you while she eats?"  

Legolas raised his eyebrows as he pulled a cushion onto his lap and pulled open his bodice.  "I don't see why not.  What do you want to talk about?"  

The man shrugged.  "This and that, I suppose.  Whatever comes to mind.  We haven't talked much lately." 

"No, we haven't."  Legolas looked expectantly towards the maid and was rewarded with a screaming, squirming bundle.  He could smell the clean scent of baby as he lowered her onto his lap.  

It was this moment that was the hardest, he thought as he looked down at the small face.  He tried so hard to feel nothing when she was there, tried so hard not to react to her bright eyes that pierced him to his soul.  He bounced his knees gently and clucked at her, trying to soothe her.  She nursed better when calm.   She sobbed for a moment and then looked up into his eyes and smiled, exposing her pink gums, and his heart skipped a beat as he felt an overwhelming tenderness wash over him.   

He raised his eyes to the man who sat at his feet and knew that his inner conflict was visible by the expression on the man's face.  He quickly lowered his eyes and lifted her up to where she could easily latch on.  

There was a moment of pain and then of pleasure beforeLuthièl got down to the business of voraciously eating.  It was that moment that Legolas felt the loss of self most acutely, as if with every suck she drew more and more of what he was out and away forever.  He closed his eyes to hide his feelings from the sharp gaze of the one who watched him, and then opened them again once his composure was recovered.

Luthièl grumbled as she ate, making small sounds of contentment.  Aragorn smiled to hear them and then spoke.  "What does it feel like, nursing a child?"

Legolas blinked and considered the question.  "I don't know how to describe it.   In a way it seems pleasurable, and in a way it hurts.  I feel tied to this place even moreso because I have to be here for her when she demands it.  And she is very demanding."  He smiled at that small understatement.  

The king smiled and leaned forward to look more closely at his daughter.  A tiny hand snaked up to grab a lock of the golden hair and brush it against the small face while he watched.  He gently stroked the back of the baby's head, and then sat back and looked at them both together, eyes gleaming.

"What do you see?"  Legolas was intrigued by the look in the man's eye.  

"I see magic."  He spoke almost reverently.  "I see the two most important people in my life, the two most beautiful women in the world, the most loving act that could ever be shared between mother and child."

"Is that all you see?" Legolas could feel the heat rising into his face as he flushed, perhaps in anger, perhaps in shame.

Aragorn's eyes darkened.  "No.  I see more.  I see the result of my betrayal of you.   I see your sadness and loss.  I see your confusion and fear."  He paused.  "But I prefer to see a beautiful, loving mother with a beautiful child right now.  There is time enough for darkness later." 

"And if you had looked at me two years ago, what would you have seen, Aragorn?"  Legolas could feel Luthièl starting to get heavy in his arms.  He switched her over to nurse on the other side as he asked.  

"I would have seen something completely different.  A deadly warrior, a noble prince, a good friend."

Legolas sighed.  "I am still that inside.  Being something else than what I am is killing me inch by inch.  I have to be true to myself, Aragorn.  Don't you see?   You have made another side of me, but that side is not natural or right, even if it seems that way to you."  

"Do the two sides have to be mutually exclusive?"  Aragorn shifted and then continued.  "Can you not be everything that you were and everything that you have become at the same time?"

Aragorn was surprised when Legolas thought about that question for long moments.  "I don't think so."  The voice dropped to a near whisper.  "Sometimes I get so tired of fighting, Aragorn.  So tired of trying to remember what I was that I simply want to give up and let go of everything I was and embrace what you have made me.  It fills me with shame to admit that to you."  He looked down to find himself absently stroking a small arm with his thumb. 

"I don't want that, Legolas."  The king reached over to gently tickle a tiny foot and found his daughter sound asleep.  "I don't want that at all.  I want you to be happy."  He gently took the sleeping child from the Elf and watched as Legolas began to lace the bodice.   "I don't want you to be anything less than yourself."

He looked up and found Legolas staring at his neck.  "Where is it?"  The Elf gasped the question and then looked him in the eye.  "Where is it?"  He repeated with a panicked note in his voice.

Aragorn furrowed his brow.  "What?  Where is what?"

"Davyn's crystal.  You're not wearing it.  Where is it?"  Legolas reached forward and grabbed at the neck of the king's tunic and jerked it open, looking for the leather thong that held the one assurance that the mage would not escape.  "Where is it?"  

Aragorn sighed and then stood, the limp child still cradled in his arm.  He turned to the maids still in the room and indicated the door with a jerk of his head.  "Leave us."  His tone brooked no resistance, although Valda hesitated for the barest moment before seeing the grim look on the king's face.  

The room empty and the door closed, the king drew himself tall and turned to face the small blonde who had come to stand behind him.  "There is something I must tell you, Legolas."  He could feel the bitter taste of betrayal on his tongue as he spoke.  "I had not wanted to discuss this now but I will not lie to you.  You deserve better than that." 

"What?  What has happened?"  The Elf turned his face up, eyes wide.  "What have you done?"

"Davyn is dead."  Aragorn said the words quickly, as if their speed would lessen their impact.  "He and Gilby died the night Luthièl was born.  They died by each other's hand."

Legolas paled and swayed in front of Aragorn, and then held onto the back of the chair for support.  "Dead?  That long ago?  Why did you not tell me?"

He seemed more confused than angry, Aragorn thought. "I did not want to kill you with grief.  You were needed, and still are."  He gestured to the sleeping child in the crook of his arm.  "I would not have you die because of me, Legolas."

"You promised me."  The words were barely audible.  "You promised me that I would be free.  That you would have the spell broken and I could leave."  The blue eyes began to blaze.  "You have what you wanted now, don't you?  Did this happen at your bidding?"  

The king shook his head.  "No.  I was with you the entire time and you know that."  He sighed deeply and then continued.  "I know what I swore, and I still intend to keep my promise.  I know there is some other way we can defeat this spell.  I have every resource I have looking for an answer, but they have found nothing yet."  

"You wanted this."  The words were emotionless, and Aragorn was shocked to see the blue eyes go almost flat and dead with grief.  "You wanted me to stay like this, to stay here with you, and give you what you want."  

"Not like this, Legolas."  He lifted a hand as though to touch the Elf's porcelain cheek.  "Never like this." 

Legolas flinched away from the touch.  "Don't touch me," he hissed.  "Don't touch me, don't look at me, don't talk to me."  The small body trembled, anger in every line, as if there was a tempest held at bay by only his skin.    "Get out."  The tone was icy calm and even more threatening for it.  

Aragorn tried again.  "Legolas, I swear…"  

"Get out. "  The Elf interrupted, this time the voice an octave sharper.  "Get out.  GET OUT!  GET OUT!  GET OUT!!"  Each time he said it, the voice grew louder and shriller, as if all control was eroding faster than he could say the words.  Aragorn looked into the blue eyes and found them dark with madness.  "GET OUT!!!"  This last was punctuated by the crash of the heavy chair landing against the wall.  Wood splintered and flew as Aragorn shielded his still sleeping daughter and rushed from the room.  Legolas grabbed the remains of the chair and began to beat them against the wall as he sobbed incoherently.  

One small part of his mind noted that this was very womanish, breaking things and sobbing.  Another small part acknowledged this, but also noted how satisfying the feel of breaking something was.  The first part agreed with this, but then pointed out that perhaps this meant he was becoming the one thing he did not wish to be.  A woman.

Legolas froze, breathing hard.  He would not allow this to happen.  He would not give in to this.  Aragorn was right, there must be another way.  

He numbly moved across the room to the mirror.  The sheet still shrouded it as it had since Luthièl's birth.  Some part of him had not wanted to see her sad eyes as she silently berated him for his resistance to loving the baby.  

He tugged the sheet from the wooden frame with his left hand as he realized he still gripped a chair leg in his right.  The sheet fell from numb fingers as he looked upon her.  Her bosom heaved and her cheeks were pink with exertion.  His eyes were drawn to the blue gem that rested at the base of her throat and the collar that encircled her slender neck.  The same collar that gleamed in the sullen winter sunlight bound her to this body.

He raised his hand to the collar at his neck, feeling the knots and whorls in it as he traced the edge where it turned from metal into warm skin.  She did the same with hers.  

"Maybe?"  he asked her, his voice ringing in the room.   He turned from the mirror, eyes scanning the room quickly, looking for something, anything sharp.  The daggers had been removed from over the fireplace long before and there were no other knives in the room.  

He turned back to the mirror, hand still on the collar.  Her eyes widened at the same time his did; he realizing what to do, she realizing what he intended to.  

He raised the chair leg and swung it into the center of the mirror with a precise amount of force.  The glass shattered with a popping noise and a large shard fell from the frame and onto the floor with a deceptively merry tinkle.  

He threw the chair leg somewhere, not caring where it landed or what it damaged as he fell to his knees and tightly grasped the shard of glass.  The edges were razor sharp, cutting his fingers and palm to the bone but he felt nothing, so strong was his desire to be free.  Blood began to run down his arm and drip off his elbow into a small pool by his knees.  In a disconnected way, he wondered if it would stain the stone.  He hated to cause more work for the servants.  

He moved the shard to his other hand as he felt out the edges of the collar again, leaving red smudges on his neck and chest.  The stone took on an almost purple tinge.  The other hand was bleeding freely now as well. 

With a hard thrust, he took the shard and tried to cut around the collar, trying to cut it out of his living flesh. The collar would not budge.  The glass scraped on the metal causing his teeth to grind at the sensation, but he cut again.   He could not feel the sting of pain or the warm wetness as his blood flowed down to cover his chest in a rapidly spreading red stain.  He felt nothing but the desire to be free of the horrible spell that held him.  

It was not the pain that caught his attention, but the mirror.  His eyes fell upon the shattered mirror, the glass still in the frame, and he saw there the woman in the mirror.  He leaned back and looked at her, each individual shard holding a small image of her, multiplying her suffering.  Down her pale cheeks traced silvery tears as she wept silently for him.  The blood had now covered the entire front of her dress and ran down onto the floor in front of her, making the small pool even bigger. 

Together they looked at each other in horror, she at what he had done to himself, he at what he had done to her.  The shard fell from his nerveless fingers as he leaned forward, bringing the reflection from many women to one woman.  Her face was horribly broken, but that was not as frightening as her eyes.  They had no life, no hope.  

"I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."  He gasped the words as he lifted his hands to the shattered glass, trying to pat it back down, put it together.  He left red smudges wherever he touched, and the sharp edges cut his hands more.  "I didn't think of what this would do to you.  I'm so sorry."  His chest hitched with sobs as he tried again and again to press the glass down, to fix the breaks that marred her face.  Anything to make her eyes come back to life again.  "I'm so sorry.  I can't fix you.  I've shattered you.  You're shattered."  He was sobbing uncontrollably now.   The reflection was barely visible through the covering of red he had left on the glass, but he could still feel her eyes accusing him through the blood. 

His ears roared, and he barely heard the voice behind him that screamed for help, or felt the arms that dragged him back from the glass.  He was too disconnected to feel the hands that gripped his arms tightly enough to slow the bleeding, or the bandage that was pressed to the gaping wound on his throat.   There was no pain.  There was only the deep sorrow he felt at the damage he had caused the woman in the mirror.   

The world spun around him as he raised his eyes to the grey ones that looked down upon him.  "She is shattered and I cannot put her back together."  He continued weakly when there was no answer.  "I am shattered."  

The world went black. 


	17. Chapter 17

Insert standard 4 AM disclaimer, but subtract all the misspellings and hallucinations that comes from working 60 hours a week and then staying up till 4 AM to write fanfic.  I don't own anyone except my original characters, who are hellacool.  And someone needs to slap me for staying up this late….

I also want to acknowledge publicly that Jastaelf is my muse.  Without this woman talking me through this story at what seems to be a constant basis, I would never have gotten this far.  I keep wondering if it's worth continuing or even trying to be a writer and she keeps encouraging me and bringing out the sickness again.  She also gave me the name for the baby.  I love her work with a passion, but I adore her. 

And thanks to AllIwantisanelfforxmas (I hope I spelled that right, al) for looking over my rough draft and explaining prone vs. supine.  Among other things.   Check out her unauthorized bio of Legolas.   She also does wicked beta.   (note, this is unbeta'd.. .don't blame al.)

And to Treehugger for crying.  I can tell that I'm writing well when she cries.  Read everything of hers.  Laugh.  And then cry when you realize what happens to Tangliana and Brethil.

Also… Run, don't walk, to Nebride's  "The Fairy Goblet".  I LOVE THIS STORY!!!! And… as a plus, she updates MUCH more often than I do.  Which isn't really saying much, but she does every Friday updates. 

Ithilien's "The Hunting Trip" is tres scary.  I actually need to go review that and al's latest chapter.  But not tonite.  It's 4:37 and I have children sleeping over who will be up by 6:30.  EEEK.  

There are so many people and stories I could mention… "Stardust Book 2" by Riki Tiki Tavi is one… uhm… but I really can't think… 

The king washed his hands again.  They shook violently, making bubbles on the surface of the water.  The water in the basin had turned red long before, but there was still blood on his hands.   The chill of the water seemed to run up his arms and into his heart. 

He grabbed the bar of brown soap again and lathered up to his elbows, trying to wash away so much more than the blood of a friend.      

He sighed and swallowed as he scrubbed, his skin starting to sting from the repeated washings and harsh soap.  Mouth filled with the taste of bitter iron, he wondered silently.  ::_Is__ this the taste of betrayal and guilt?  What could I have done to prevent this?::    _

He finally lifted his hands from the basin and watched as the water dripped pink from his fingers.   Each drop made a deceptively merry sound as it landed back in the water from which it came, causing ripples to dance across the surface.

He turned and took the offered towel from Arnlaug, not meeting the older man's eyes.  "Thank you."  He kept his eyes on the fine cloth between his fingers, crumpling it between his hands, staining it with the blood that he still saw on his hands.  The towel turned pink with the color of treachery.

He flinched as he saw what he had done to the previously unmarred surface of the cloth and then ineffectually tried to smooth it back to what it had been.  _::I destroy everything I touch, it seems.  I can't fix this and I can't fix Legolas.::  _

He sighed and then turned back to Arnlaug.  "Thank you", he repeated, thinking this time of the older man dragging him away from Legolas' limp body, physically hauling him away so that a healer could work on the Elf.   

Arnlaug merely nodded and turned to face the door that led from the king's chambers to the queen's.  The heavy oaken door muffled the urgent sounds coming from behind it.  Aragorn knew without looking that the healer was still working to fix the damage that Legolas had caused to himself in a fit of what he could only think of as lucid madness. 

The blue eyes had been almost transparent when they had turned up to him.  Royal hands shook as he fumbled with the cloth pressed to the gaping wound in the pale throat, and he could feel a pulse against his hand like the flutter of a bird's wing.

"I am shattered."  

He shuddered with the horror he still felt as the words echoed in his mind.  It was not the words as much as the devastation and loss in the sweet voice.  It had been the sound of someone losing all hope, all desire to live.  And it was because of him.  

He looked down at his tunic and realized that he was covered with blood.  Legolas had beaten his arms and chest, the lacerated hands leaving bloody trails behind as they flailed in a futile attempt to be free of the one who had trapped him so well.  Aragorn sighed again.  _::Yes, to be free of me.  That's all he wanted.  And I couldn't even give him that.:: _

He turned his back to Arnlaug and peeled the offending garment from his body and threw it across the room in frustration.   No amount of bathing would make him feel clean again.  

The lithe body he had just been admiring earlier that day had writhed in his arms, and then gone limp. The blonde hair he had wanted to run his fingers through had been stained red with blood and stuck to his hands and arms, a silent accusation.  The blue eyes that he had admired for years had fixed on his face with horror and fear, and the rosebud lips he had desired to taste again had trembled and then shaped a plea, a cry for help.  

"Ada.  Ada, help me.  Where are you, Ada?  Don't leave me here", the melodious voice had cried in vain.   Ada was not there to help.  Ada was not there to still the sudden violent shaking that had then taken the slender frame in his arms.  And Ada was not there to shush the panicked cries that came from increasingly bloodless and pale lips.    There was only Aragorn.  And Aragorn was not wanted. 

He turned back to Arnlaug and gestured towards the door with his chin.  "I'm going back in.  I won't get in the way, but I can't bear to not be there."  He grabbed yesterday's tunic from the end of his bed, automatically sniffing it to see if it was still wearable.  He wrinkled his nose, considered it for a moment, shrugged, and then pulled it on over his head.  It wasn't in him to care what he looked or smelled like even after years of being forcibly corralled into hygiene. 

Absently trying to brush the wrinkles from the thick cloth he turned to see the Chancellor sliding around the edge of the door back into the room.  He followed silently, gliding in to stand near the wall and watch the tableau spread on the floor before him.

Disa knelt by Legolas' side, holding an oil lamp over where the healer was working with a fine pair of tweezers.  A quiet clink echoed in the room when the white haired man freed a shard of glass from the delicate hand held in his own and dropped it into a small clay bowl.  The healer glanced up at him for a moment, his face drawn with fatigue.  "My Lord", he said softly and then turned back to his task.  

Disa turned to look at him, still holding the oil lamp aloft.  Her face bore the silvery tracks of silent tears, but her eyes were like ice when she looked upon him.  The chill spread across her face as she looked at him, first making her face freeze and then harden into a unmoving mask.  After a long moment, she turned back to her work, holding the lamp higher and moving her body almost infinitesimally to stand between her king and the Elf.   

He shifted his glance to Lanelese.  She cradled Legolas' head in her lap, stroking the bloodstained locks and humming quietly.  With her free hand she held bandages at the ready for the healer.  Almost as if she felt his gaze, she turned to look at him.   Her normally sweet smile was nowhere to be found.  Instead she wore a worried frown.  She met his eyes briefly and then looked down, as if she could not bear the sight of him.  

Clotild came up behind Lanelese, carrying a basin of water and some rags.  She froze when she saw him and then slowly, deliberately turned her back to him as she sank to her knees and began to gently clean the blood from the reclining body before her.

With a hard swallow, Aragorn turned to look at Arnlaug.  The chancellor merely shrugged and shook his head sadly.  Then the old man cleared his throat and spoke to the healer.  "What think you, Nevyn?  Will she be alright?"

Nevyn looked up and drew a hand across his brow.  His voice was quiet but assured.  "The wound on her throat looked much worse than it was.  I don't think she was trying to cut her throat as much as trying to remove the collar from around her neck.  It bled heavily, but it was easy to staunch and bind."  He then looked down with clinical interest at the hand he held.  "I don't think she did any permanent damage to her hands either.  I don't see anything that I can't stitch up easily.  No tendons or ligaments appear to be cut."  His brow furrowed as he moved to pick out another piece of glass.  The bowl clinked again, the sound making Aragorn jump.

"No stitches."  Aragorn met the four pairs of eyes that stared at him.  "No stitches.  She's Elven.  Bind the wounds tight and well, and they'll heal quickly and hopefully without scars.  Stitches would only slow the process down."  

The healer nodded his obedience and bent his head to his task again. 

Aragorn tried to disregard the distinct chill the room took when all three women turned their backs and pointedly ignored him.   While such behavior was insulting to him as a king, he certainly couldn't say that he wouldn't have done the same in their place.   

The small sounds of the glass shards dropping into the bowl combined with soft sounds of Lanelese's humming stretched his nerves until he could feel them fraying.  The muscles in his shoulders began to ache and twitch from the silent tension that filled the room. 

 After what seemed an eternity, Nevyn wrapped the slender hands in clean bandages and then indicated that they should move the Elf to the bed.  Fatigue oozed from his body like a dark cloud as he wearily nodded to the king and spoke softly.  "I think she should be fine, physically at least.  Now we wait." 

Aragorn moved forward to pick up Legolas, but found that the three women had already arranged themselves between him and the limp Elf.  As one, they lifted and carried the body to the bed and continued to clean the blood from the hair and skin, keeping their bodies between him and the one he would try and touch.  

He realized how cold the room was at that moment.  It took everything he had not to shiver as he swallowed the bitter taste that filled his mouth again.   

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Blue.  The world was blue.  Legolas opened his eyes to find he was in a verdant forest.  Trees grew to dizzying heights above his head, tops too tall even for his eyes to see.   Blue sunlight filtered down between the branches far overhead. 

The light trickled down and gave the world a blue tint.  The shadows beneath the trees shaded into mottled tints of indigo, some dark, some light, almost as if seen from beneath water.   The forest rang with birdcalls that he had never heard before, and his heart was stirred by their beauty.  He suppressed the urge to run forward and see what bird had made those sounds.   

Legolas blinked in the strange light and then looked down at himself.  Something tugged at his consciousness.  There was something wrong here but he could not remember what it was.  Something was different, something had changed about him.

After a long moment of thought, he knew that there was something that he did not want to remember.   It would be better if he just lived in the now, and did not try to think of the past.  There was something there that frightened him and he decided that he did not want to know what it was. 

Lifting his hand to shade his eyes, he blinked and turned slowly to survey the forest around him.  Nothing was familiar.  He lowered his hand again and his attention was drawn to his bracer.  

The great tree of Greenwood was picked out in a silver tracery that shone with blue fire against the darkness of the leather.  He could feel his lips turn up into a small smile.  He didn't know why the sight of something so mundane pleased him, but it did.  

A quick inspection revealed that he carried his bow and quiver on his back, as well as his long knives.  He allowed his smile to grow wider as he turned back to the forest around him.  

The trees sang to him, their song strange but still a familiar welcome.  He stepped lightly through the trees, not making a sound in piles of blue leaves that covered the forest floor.   The trees smelled as they should, but were somehow magnified in their scent, as if their size increased the richness of their odor.  

There was no hunger or thirst in this strange world, but there was the pressure of memory.  He knew not how long he walked -- be it days or weeks or even years -- but with each step his heart seemed to grow heavier.  There was something he had forgotten, something that he could not remember.   And he did not want to remember what it was.  That was the most painful part.

-0-0-0-0-0-00-0-0-0-0-0-0

Aragorn wanted to weep whenever he saw Legolas' eyes.  They were still shockingly blue, especially now in the light of the new day, but vacant and empty -- devoid of all intelligence and life.   The pale chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and the heart beat on bravely, but the will to live was gone.   

The small body was propped up on cushions and Clotild sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing the long silken hair free of tangles.

He leaned forward in the chair and cradled his head between his hands, and sighed deeply into the stillness of the room.  

Clotild paused in her brushing and looked over to the distraught king.  He had not slept at all this past night and looked it.  His eyes were heavily shadowed and his hair fell down around his face, hiding it from her view.  She already knew that his eyes would look haunted, and a small part of her felt a justified satisfaction at his pain.  The largest part of her felt for him, though.  She could see his feelings of guilt and had seen him treat the Elf with tenderness and something approaching reverence in the past months.    

A hand rested on Aragorn's shoulder and he looked up into Valda's tired eyes.  "Any change yet?"  She sounded as tired as he felt.  In her arms rested Luthiél, blue eyes bright with hunger as she chewed on her small fists.

  "No.  Nothing."  He spoke softly, not wanting to upset the baby and start her screaming.  "Why is she here?" 

"Her needs still must be taken care of, My Lord."  Valda sighed.  "She still needs to nurse and will nurse from no one else." 

He drew up his mouth into a grimace and then exhaled sharply.  "Can her needs still be met?"  The very nature of this practicality turned his stomach.  

Valda nodded to Clotild and then answered slowly.  "Up to a point.  We can force broth and water down Legolas' throat so that she remains fed and watered.   We can keep Luthiél nursing for as long as we can.  We can hope she wakes soon."  She shrugged.  "Past that, who knows?   But if she dies, so does Luthiél.  And we can't let that to happen."  

"No." Aragorn shook his head.  "He's trying to die, you realize."

"I know."   She bounced the baby in her arms and nodded to Clotild.  

The dark haired maid began to stack pillows under one of Legolas' arms, and then gently pulled down the neckline of the nightshift.    The eyes remained open and unseeing, the jaw loose and slack.  

Valda climbed onto the bed and gently held the wriggling child close to Legolas' face.  "Come now, wake up.  Your little one wants you.  Don't you smell her sweet scent?   Don't you want to see her smile?"   

There was no reaction as she gently wrapped her arms around the slender waist to hold the child against a full breast.   There was no reaction as Luthiél latched on and began to nurse.  

Valda watched as Luthiél waved her hand spasmodically, as if searching for something.  She began to whimper as she ate.  With a quiet sound, Clotild leaned forward and pulled a lock of blonde hair forward and into the child's hand.  

The baby quieted as she stroked the hair against her face, but she was still not fully calmed.  Clotild spoke quietly.  "She misses her mother's voice."

Valda could only nod as she awkwardly supported the child against the motionless body.

The baby nursed on, brushing the golden hair against her face, while Legolas stared into oblivion, not hearing the whimpers of his daughter as she cried for her mother's touch. 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Legolas wandered for ages it seemed, seeing no other being, hearing no other sound but the song of the trees and the birds.  He saw nothing but the trees, their branches limned in varying shades of blue.  _::Are there no other Elves or creatures here?  I wonder where I am.::  _

His thoughts were broken by the sound of cold metal sliding across stone in a rhythmic pattern.  The noise went sharp then dull, sharp then dull, over and over.   He knew the sound by heart, having made it himself times beyond counting.  _::Someone sharpens a blade.  Who?:_

His steps made no sound on the undergrowth as the followed the sound to a small clearing.   

There sat Strider, carefully sharpening his sword, one stroke up, one stroke down.  His hair fell long across his shoulders, and seemed to have a blue fire while his dark skin and stubble seemed even darker in this strange light.   His clothing was worn and threadbare, patched and stitched until it seemed they were one tugged thread from falling apart.   Everything about him was comforting and familiar… yet disturbing. 

Legolas watched him work for a long moment and some memory tugged at his mind.  _::There is something wrong here.  This is an old friend.  Why do I not trust him?::    _

He made to move silently back from the clearing and leave the Ranger when the sound of sharpening suddenly stopped.  Legolas looked up to find himself pinned by the intent grey-blue stare.  

"Hello, Legolas."  Strider sheathed his blade and stood smoothly to walk across the clearing.  His paces were as fluid as those of a mountain cat and Legolas restrained the overwhelming urge to run as far as his feet could take him from this man.  The Elf could feel his brow furrow in confusion as he tried  to remember what caused him such fear.  _::This is my friend.  He is an honorable man, a king.  Why should I fear him?  What has happened?::_

The man stopped an arms length away from him, crossed his arms over his chest and spoke quietly.  "You are lost."  It was a statement of fact, not a question.

"No."  Legolas found the answer leaving his lips before he could think.

Strider smiled grimly.  "Yes.  You have forgotten where you belong.  You forget who you belong to."

Legolas swallowed hard and then frowned.  "I belong to no one by myself, Strider.  I belong where I choose to be."   The words came out with less conviction than he intended.  Something stirred in the back of his mind, some memory that made his heart leap into his throat and urged him to run.   He stepped backwards, his feet overruling his mind, and his mind not objecting for once. 

Swift as a striking snake, the man grabbed Legolas' wrist and hauled him forward to stand close to his strong chest.  "How quickly you forget, pretty Greenleaf.  You belong to me."    

"What madness is this, Aragorn?  How dare you touch me this way?"  Anger flared in Legolas' eyes, but quickly bled away to be replaced with cold fear.  His free hand reached behind to grab one of his knives, to be free of this creature, but encountered only air.  He could feel his eyes grow wide as he realized he was completely unarmed.   Overwhelming terror made his muscles go limp.  _::How?  Where are my things? Why can I not fight him?::_

"I touch you any way that I wish, pretty one."  The man held the wrist in an iron grip with one hand and ran his fingers down a soft cheek with the other.  "You may see yourself one way, but I see you differently.  Very differently.  I always have."  

Something stirred in the back of Legolas' mind, a memory.  He ruthlessly pushed it back, not wanting to remember what Strider was speaking of.    His eyes closed against the rush of memory and a shudder wracked his body as the hand touched him in a strangely familiar way.  "Who are you?  You not Strider."  His voice sounded weak to his own ears.

"Why don't you open your eyes and see for yourself?"  The voice had changed its tone, becoming musical and sweet instead dark and gruff.

"What will I see?"  His voice shook with some emotion beyond fear, beyond terror.  Something unnamable that made his heart thud in his ears.

"You will see the truth.  Isn't that what you want?"  Now the voice was gently mocking.  

His breath hitched as he pressed his eyelids together so tightly he saw red.  "No."

"The truth remains even when you do not wish to admit it, my friend", the voice admonished.  "Open your eyes and let us finish this."  

"No", he sobbed.  But his eyes slowly opened and he looked upon the one who held his arm in a viselike grip.

He could feel tears burn his eyes as he looked upon himself.  

The woman before him was everything he was, but not.  Her hair glowed in the strange blue light, but he knew it would be the color of ripe wheat set to dry in the sun.  Her eyes were as piercing as his own, because they were his own.  And her smile was mocking and sad at the same time, a smile he had seen on his own face in the mirror countless times.

A gasp escaped his lips as he shook his head.  "No.  You were trapped in the glass."

"Yes."  She smiled even more sweetly.  "You freed me from the mirror with your own hands."

"No" he repeated.  "This is not real.  You are not real.  None of this is real."

The hand around his wrist tightened slightly and then loosened.  "I am you, you realize.  I may even be more real than you are at this point."  She paused and then tossed her hair.  "Look at us.  Are we not beautiful?"

He looked at her again, his eyes seeing her as he had for the past year, not as himself but as a separate entity.  His voice was quiet when he finally answered.  "You are very beautiful."  

An even sweeter smile met his words.  "Yes, WE are beautiful, aren't WE?  How can you blame him for wanting to possess such beauty? To possess US?  How could any man not want this?"  She drew a hand languidly down her torso and then brushed up his chest with her fingertips.  "You cannot spend forever hating him.  It will consume our soul and make us fade.  I will not let you do that." 

Legolas twisted his arm and tried to break her grip on his wrist.  She merely smiled and held tight to him.  "You are cruel."  He knew he sounded petulant, but didn't care.

She laughed, but there was no mirth in it.  "I'm cruel?  I am not the one that refuses to feel for a child of my own body and considered letting it starve for my own selfishness.  I am not the one that would leave that same child to the mercy of the less than honorable humans in that court while I left for Valinor.  I am not the one that rejects half of what I am out of hand."  She leaned closer to him and whispered, "We are the same.  Accept this.  Accept that I am the one who is real, and you are the one in the looking glass."  

"NO!"  His denial echoed and shocked the trees from their song.

Silence surrounded them as the woman frowned and then released his arm.  "I will not give up.  As long as I am free, I will not give up.  I am as strong and stubborn as you because I am you." 

Her laughter followed him from the clearing as he ran, feet again making no sound.  

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-00--  

It had been two days since Aragorn had slept.  He had tried to sleep the first night but found his mind whirling with guilt and questions.  He found little solace in sitting up and keeping watch over Legolas.  The Elf looked so small in the bed, so helpless and pale, that the king was overwhelmed with the need to do something, do anything.  

He helped Lanelese wash the blood from the fine golden hair, even when the maid insisted that she needed no assistance.  She was unable to order him not to help, after all.  Then he sat and watched as Clotild combed the long hair out to dry, and built up the fire so that the room was not as cold.   He moved a brazier closer to the bed, but not too close.  He supervised the menservants when they removed the broken mirror and frame from the room, making sure that not even the slightest shard of glass was left to cause any more injury.  He kept busy as only a man of action could.  He drove everyone else insane in the process.  

The sun came up and he held Luthiél, rocking her gently while she fretted.  He could only shake his head as he watched Valda feed the body that once held his friend.  Even his daughter's smile could not piece the gloom in his heart.

The next night he spent sitting on the bed, singing softly.  He sang every song he knew, holding a bandaged hand and looking into the blue eyes for a reaction, recognition, anything.  There was nothing.  

Disa glared at him from across the room, the frost of her gaze making the room even colder, but he still sang until his throat went dry.   

The sun rose again and found the world strange in its normalcy.   The floor had been sanded and scrubbed until there was no trace of blood to be seen.  The broken mirror had been taken away and the broken furniture replaced.  Legolas had been cleaned and bandaged and was healing before his eyes.  

Lanelese had put the Elf's long hair into several plaits and arranged them with a pair of copper clasps.  Synan had gifted Legolas many things after Luthiél's birth, including bolts of rich fabric and a case of honeyed dates.  The hair clasps had been the things that Legolas had liked the most, strangely enough.  They had been intricately worked into the shape of butterflies with inset designs in different enamels.  The colors were rich and vibrant, like nothing he had ever seen before.  

Perhaps Lanelese thought that their brightness might attract the Elf's gaze while she fiddled with his hair.  Perhaps Clotild thought that dressing Legolas in a dress of royal blue and white would make him rebel against the indignity and demand leggings and a tunic.  Perhaps Valda thought that putting cold jewelry on the still body would shock the Elf into consciousness with their bitter touch against his warm skin.

However, to Aragorn, it looked as if they were dressing a doll.  A broken doll with empty blue eyes that saw nothing. 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0—0-

Legolas ran.  He already knew that it would be futile to look back and see if she followed, so he did not.  He simply ran. 

The trees had been silent for a long time, but then tentatively took up their song again, slowly becoming louder and stronger.  He didn't notice the new melody until it began to overpower the first song. 

Almost on instinct he slowed to a walk, and then followed the new song.

Finally, he emerged into a clearing.  The trees were immeasurably tall all around, their leaves breaking the blue sunlight into shade and shadow that danced across the grass that shone with sapphire dewdrops.  The meadow had been tramped down into a circle, and there sat a group of elves in the sunlight that lit their faces and hair with an ethereal blue glow.  

He recognized some of the faces as friends and acquaintances from his own home of Greenwood, but he only had eyes for a figure that sat on a carved throne at the side of the circle.  "Ada."  The word fell from his lips, a sob of joy.  

Thranduil turned towards his son.  The blue light had changed his golden hair to an almost green color, and the garland of spring flowers in his hair shone, the white blooms gleaming with a blue white intensity and the leaves almost cobalt in their darkness.  

Feet barely touching the ground, Legolas ran across the clearing to fall to his knees before his father.  "Ada", he gasped, "I can barely breathe, I'm so happy to see you."  He bent forward and rested his head on his father's lap, and allowed the tears that he had been holding for so long to fall.  He wept as his father's strong hand stroked his hair and the Elves around them sang on, never missing a note.  

After what seemed to be an eternity but what may have been merely seconds, he raised his head and looked at his father.  "Ada," he tried to speak around the lump in his throat, "I thought I would never see you again."

Thranduil's eyes flashed, their blue even more haunting in the strange light from above.  "Come now, little Greenleaf, did you think that I would abandon you?"

Legolas shook his head.  "No, but I thought that I was beyond your reach."  

The Elf king shook his head and then stood, bringing his son to stand with him.   "I will never desert you, little Greenleaf.  Even if you think that all is lost, I will be there with you." 

The king gently embraced his son and then held him back at arms length to look deeply into the blue eyes that were so much like his own.  "You have forgotten something, my son.  Something very important."

Legolas closed his eyes, unable to meet the gaze.  "I've forgotten nothing, Ada."  He knew his voice shook as he spoke.  

A child's wail lifted on the wind, and for the first time the singers faltered in their song.  

Legolas opened his eyes and looked at his father.  "I have forgotten nothing."   

His father raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.   The wailing grew louder, more desperate.  Legolas looked over his shoulder to see if he could tell where the noise was coming from, but it came from all directions.  

The prince turned back to his father.  "I am home.  I am with you.  I don't want to go back there."  Desperation filled his voice.  "I don't want to remember.  Please don't make me remember."  

Thranduil grasped one of his son's wrists in a firm grip and then turned it so Legolas could see.  The great Tree of Greenwood was gone from his bracer and in its place shone the white tree of Gondor.  The intensity of whiteness was so bright that it branded itself on the back of Legolas' eyelids when the closed his eyes and wrenched his head away.  "You are still bound, my son."  There was a heavy sadness in Thranduil's voice.

"NO!"  Legolas tried to rip his arm away from the steel grip that held it in front of his eyes for the truth to be seen.  

The king opened his hand slowly and allowed his son to withdraw his hand and then spoke again, his words weighed with the sorrow of ages.  "I told you not to trust the mortals.  They lust for that which they cannot have, be it riches, wisdom, or beauty.  And sometimes they will succeed in getting what they want, even if for a short time."  The King leaned forward and touched his son's cheek.  "But I cannot blame you for wanting to be close to them and feel the heat of their fire.  It burns so hot, even if only for a short while.  It is seductive in its own way."  

The young, yet ancient face seemed to fold in upon itself in sadness for a moment and Legolas realized for the first time how very old his father was.  The wailing grew louder.  "Have you truly forgotten nothing, my son, or is it simply that you don't want to remember?"  

A low moan escaped Legolas' lips as he shook his head.

The Elf king put his hands in a firm grip on his son's shoulders.  "Remember this.  My love for you is as eternal as we are.  No matter what is done to you, I remain as constant as the stars above.  That is the love I have for all my children, as any parent should."   He then pulled his son into another embrace.  

Legolas finally spoke, his voice small against his father's chest.  "I have forgotten something of great importance, Ada.  I must go back."  The voice was empty.  "I don't want to, but I must."  

Thranduil nodded in approval and touched his son's cheek.  "Yes.  I did not teach my son to leave behind the helpless or abandon his kin."  The strong hand then patted Legolas' shoulder and the king spoke again.  "You will be back with us soon enough, son.   We are eternal, after all.  The one who holds you is not."   

Legolas nodded and listened to the singers again, their song swelling around them.  And through their song the wailing of a small child wove in and out, her cries now part of what they made in the blue world that they inhabited.  

The light began to change and strange voices began to wind themselves into the song, and then overpower it.  They at first came from far away and were gibberish, but then began to coalesce into words he knew.  And above them all was the howl of a child.  

Aragorn's voice shocked him when it came from next to his ear.  "And what would you have me do, Disa?  Pretend that this didn't happen?  I can't do that.  I have to do something."  

"Haven't you done enough already?"  Disa's hiss came from his other side.  "None of this would have happened if it weren't for you, my lord."  Legolas felt his lip twitch.  Disa always remembered exactly what a person's station was and always used the proper modicum of address as required by precedence.  She was using the bare minimum right now.  That, for her, was a deadly insult.

There was a sigh from Aragorn, and then the feeling of a hand gently brushing his shoulder and touching his neck.  

Disa continued, venom in her voice.  Legolas was glad it wasn't aimed at him this time.  "Are you already thinking how easy it would be to get her with child while she's like this?  She can't argue with you.  No tears, no fighting.  Just what you need, a witless woman to bear your children."

Legolas could feel Aragorn tense up at the insult.  "If that were what I wanted, I would have already been married to you, Disa."  The voice carried frost.  

There was a gasp of anger from the girl and then a gurgle from that which she carried. _:: __Luthiel__.  She has __Luthiél__.  That is what I had forgotten ::  He could hear the girl huff and then walk from the room. _

The light grew brighter and he blinked against it.  And then he blinked again.

There was silence in the room as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the brightness he found there.  Another blink cleared his vision and he realized that what he normally would think was pallid sunlight almost made his eyes water with its brilliance.  

He turned his head to the left and found a pair of grey eyes boring into his own.  

"You came back."  Aragorn's spoke in barely a whisper.  "You were fading, but you came back."  

Nodding, Legolas spoke, his voice rough.  "I forgot something important."  

The man's eyes lit up with joy, and then a pair of arms wrapped him into an unwanted embrace.  Lips found their way to his forehead and pressed a firm kiss there.  Stubble scratched at the sensitive skin.  

The Elf yelped and then shoved against the man as hard as he could.  A sharp punch to the stomach followed, and then another shove sent the king sliding off the bed to land on the cold, hard floor with a grunt of pain.  

Legolas crawled to the other side of the bed and looked out into the room.  The chair he had destroyed had been replaced; the table, replaced.  Where the mirror had stood there was nothing.   An empty wall taunted him. 

He raised his hands to his face, and then to touch his forehead where he still tingled from Aragorn's lips.  The sensation was odd but not unpleasant.  _::She is free, and she wants to be real.  I can already feel her in my skin.  I will not let her win this game..::_

He turned back to where Aragorn was struggling to his feet.  "I need the mirror back.  Please.  I need it back."  

The king straightened, and then shook his head.  "No."  There was a note of finality in his voice.  "I can't trust you." 

Legolas turned back to where the mirror had been and wrapped his arms around his chest against the cold.  _::She is free and she will not give up.  How long can I fight her?::_


	18. chapter 18

Disclaimer:  I don't own Middle Earth, I don't own the place, the people, yadda yadda.  I suck on canon. The usual.     Pls see bottom for more notes…. 

…… 

The baby squealed and laughed brightly as she wriggled on the thick carpet.  Light from the fire gilded her hair into a mass of shiny curls and her pink arms pumped in rhythm with her giggles as Legolas lowered his head to brush his lips against her feet again.  He kissed one small foot, then the other and then the first again, and then pushed the feet down to smile at his daughter.  Her giggles increased in volume and the happiness he felt at the sound almost erased the unpleasant itchy feeling of being watched from between his shoulder blades.  

He hated being watched.  He hated being watched so closely that he was unable to even turn around without seeing one of the women scrutinizing his every move.  It had been several weeks since the incident that no one dared discuss, but he still felt their eyes on him almost constantly.  He hated being unable to move freely to make arrangements for what he needed to do.  He could move stealthily when needed, but it was difficult at best in these circumstances. 

 His feelings about being watched so closely by Aragorn were strong as well, but confusing at the same time.  On one hand, Legolas resented the almost constant presence of the man.  He seemed set on spending every spare moment of every day watching over-- nay, smothering—the Elf, as if it were some lack of attention that had driven Legolas to such depths of despair.    On the other, some hidden portion seemed to enjoy the man's company.  Perhaps their long friendship still made him feel as though there was something still there, some common thread that they still shared.  Or, a perverse voice whispered in the back of his mind, the woman inside liked the attention and wanted it to continue, to intensify.   He closed his eyes at the thought and shook his head.   She would not win this game.  She COULD not win this game. 

He looked down again at his daughter.  Her eyes were so much like his but sparkled with an innocence he would never again possess.  She reached up and easily caught one of his braids and drew it into her mouth, sucking on the fine hair with great enjoyment.   He could feel his lips curling into a smile as she tried to grab at the shadows the firelight cast on his hair with her other hand.   

He drew a tender foot to his mouth again, bestowed another feather light kiss on the sole, and then offered a small silver rattle to replace his braid.   Luthiél looked for a moment as though she might wail in protest, but then grasped the shiny object and flailed it around, nearly hitting her own face several times in the process.  

Straightening, he spoke quietly.  "Don't be so concerned, Aragorn.  I would never harm her."  He arched his back, trying to make the itch into a kink that could be stretched out and forgotten.   After a moment he turned to face the grey eyes that still had not left him.  "If you recall, I am in my present predicament because I couldn't harm her.  I certainly won't start now."  

The king leaned into the ring of firelight.  He had lingered in the shadows, allowing the play of the flames to paint his face with shadows and valleys.  His chair squeaked as he moved forward.  "You would deny her your presence.  Is that not harmful?  Do you not think she would suffer without you?" 

Legolas found he could not meet the eyes that now cut through him.  "That was not my intention.  You know that.  I have told you many times."  Against his will, his eyes turned again to Luthiél.  "I will not leave her.  She has worked her way into my heart and I cannot bear the thought of her coming to harm at the hands of some functionary who thinks only of advancing the welfare of some other family or of political gain.  I will not allow that to happen."  

There was a sound of pleasure from the figure that still lingered half in the shadows.  "Then you will stay." 

"I did not say that."  Legolas turned cold eyes on the man.  

"You cannot take her to Valinor.  You forget that she is my child and belongs to Gondor.  She belongs here."   Aragorn sighed deeply.  "I cannot stop you from leaving, but I will not allow you to take her from me." 

"And you think that she would find acceptance here?  You forget that she is also my child and half-Elven on top of that."  Challenge was obvious in the erect carriage and blazing eyes of the Elf.  "She is different by the very circumstance of her birth.  Do you think she would not notice that she was unusual?  Will she not realize that she is the only one of her kind here?  How cruel can you be?" 

Aragorn fluidly rose from his chair and came to kneel by Luthiél.  His callused hand ran through her soft curls as he spoke.  "You spent so long denying she existed, and then you denied that she was yours.  Then you denied that you had any feeling for her.  Now you would claim her so completely that there is no more room for me in her life?"  He smiled down at the child as she firmly gripped his finger and yanked it into her mouth.  "Don't think that I will give her up so easily."  He raised his eyes to the figure that seemed to both lean towards him and away from him at the same time, if that were possible. 

"And what will you do with her?  You say she cannot be your heir because she is female.  She is useless to you."  The soft voice was almost biting in its bitterness.  

Frowning, the king leaned over and kissed his daughter on the forehead.   Luthiél cooed up at her father and hit him on the chin with her rattle.  He smiled down at her indulgently and then continued.  "She is not useless.  She is everything to me."  He looked back up at the Elf again.  "She may not be able to inherit, but she can forge a strong marriage alliance some day in the future.  No royal child is ever useless, regardless of gender." 

Legolas glared at the man on the other side of the carpet.  "So you would raise her to be a 'proper woman'?  Make her timid and weak, afraid of her own shadow and then marry her off so that she can spend out all her days bearing children for a man she does not love, each year becoming more lifeless and worn?"  His voice thickened in disgust.  "I would not have that fate for a dog, much less for my child."  

Anger colored the grey eyes and made them flash in the firelight as the king glared at the Elf.  "You think so little of me, Legolas.  I would never expect such things for any woman in my life, least of all her."   He looked down at his daughter and ran his fingers through her curls again.  "Besides, I expected that you would teach her all the things that she should know in the world.  She will need to learn archery and riding, as well as how to fight.  I can think of no one better than you.  Together, we can teach her so much more than one of us could alone."  

Eyes dark with some unnamed emotion, Legolas leaned forward and whispered, "And what will you teach her, Aragorn?  The same lessons you've taught me?  Will you teach her not to trust anyone?  Will you teach her to look in every corner for a knife or dagger aimed at her heart?  What has she done to deserve such lessons?"  The words were precisely enunciated yet softly spoken. 

The man seemed to age for a moment, the firelight deepening lines and etching pain into his face.  "Whether or not you like it, Legolas, we are bound together through her.   We can either work together to overcome our differences for her benefit or we can sit here and make each other bleed until there is nothing left of what we were."   Aragorn lowered his hand again to touch his daughter's soft cheek.  "I would wager she would prefer the first option."  

There was nothing from the other side of the carpet but the soft exhalation of breath, too soft to be a sob.  "Sometimes I think there is nothing left of what I was."   Legolas sat ramrod straight and looked up.  The eyes were still hard but were filled with unshed tears.   "I find myself struggling to remember what I was like before I came here, but it gets harder with every passing day."  He looked at the man across from him, but there was no longer any heat in his gaze, only sadness.  "What will you do when I can no longer remember myself?  Will you rejoice?" 

Aragorn leaned forward and firmly clasped the shoulder across from him, ignoring the stiffening and flinch of the body beneath his hand.  "No."  He tried to pour every ounce of sincerity he had through his hand and into the Elf.  "I would never rejoice at such a thing.  I would see as the death of one of my dearest friends.  I do not want that to happen."  

Without thought Legolas leaned his face towards the hand on his shoulder, almost as if drawn to the heat that radiated from it.  After a moment, he spoke.  "It is not all your fault, as much as I would like to blame you.  I allowed this to happen as much as you did."  He closed his eyes and sighed.  "I consented to much of this so that I could find a way to free you from Davyn's spell.  And then I allowed myself to be manipulated by those I should not have trusted.  I gave in much, much too easily."  He started as he opened his eyes and shrugged the hand off his shoulder.  The eyes were hard again, unforgiving.  "Do not expect that I shall give in again, not without a fight." 

With a grim smile, Aragorn withdrew his hand.  "I would expect nothing less from a Prince and a warrior, my friend."  He turned his attention to the child that lay between them, her bright eyes now closed in slumber.  "I would have us in unison for her sake.  Can we not come to some understanding -- for her?"  

Legolas stood fluidly and moved across the room, turning his back to the man.   He came to stand by the bed and regarded it for a long moment.  Finally he spoke, still not facing the one at the fire.   "I am not opposed to an understanding with you, provided you can do one thing."  

"What would you have of me?"  Aragorn stood slowly, cocking his head to one side. 

"I would have the truth from you for once."  Legolas turned.  "Why me?  Davyn said there were others you could have had, but you chose me.  Why?"  He crossed his arms and waited.  

Aragorn flinched.  "I do not know."  

"You lie."  Legolas shook his head.  "How can you expect me to trust you, to go through the charade you call an 'agreement' if you cannot answer a simple question.  Why me?" 

The king carefully stepped around the slumbering child and leaned his head against the mantel.  "I have no answer for your question, Legolas." 

"You lie."  The voice was low as not to wake Luthiél, but was filled with venom all the same.  "After all that you have done, why is it that you cannot tell me this one thing?  All I ask is the truth."  He tilted his head.  "I think I deserve the truth after all that I have been through.  It is little enough.  Why me?" 

Turning back to the Elf, Aragorn shook his head.  "You know not what you ask, Legolas.  It is not a simple answer." 

"I know full well what I ask, Aragorn.  I ask only for the truth.  Why me?"  He choked down on the urge to scream and instead stepped forward, hands clutched into tight fists.  "Why did you choose me?" 

"Why did I choose you?  Look at yourself and ask that question," Aragorn snapped.  "*Look* at yourself.  You are beautiful and you were before this happened.  You were wise and strong, but kind.  You were my friend who I could tell anything and you would not judge.  You were mysterious and Elvish in all the ways that inspire awe, but young enough to remember how to laugh and smile.  You were my equal in most things and my better in some.  You were everything that a man could ever want of a partner."  The king paused, horrified at the torrent of words that gushed from his mouth.  He shook his head sadly.   "You were everything I ever wanted except you were a man." 

Legolas froze, eyes glittering like ice chips in the shadows that played on his face.  One hand worked its way up to the bedpost as he held his breath. 

"You were everything I ever wanted, except you were a man," Aragorn repeated.  "We fought side by side as brothers, and you were as much a part of me as Arwen -- perhaps even more because we shared things that she never could understand."  The man swallowed and plunged on, stepping towards Legolas as he spoke.  "I remember regretting once that your father had sons and not daughters, but I never considered you anything but a friend, I swear it." 

Time stood still for the Elf as he turned his eyes and looked at his hand.  Long, slender fingers gilded by the firelight wrapped around the wood of the bedpost, the small knuckles gleaming white.   He brought his hand in front of him and turned it this way and that.   The nails were immaculately manicured and ended in delicate points.  Even the calluses seemed somehow more fragile.  A woman's hand.  He raised his eyes to find Aragorn standing in front of him, watching him carefully.  

"You were everything I ever wanted, Legolas.  I just never thought to find it in a woman."  The king gently grasped the small hand in front of him and engulfed it in his own much larger one.   The other hand gently found a delicate chin and lifted the small face to meet his gaze.  He furrowed his brow as the Elf trembled in his hands. 

"I don't understand." Legolas barely whispered the words but they were as clear as if he had shouted.  "I don't understand how you could see me in that way."  His voice grew louder as he spoke.  "I am not beautiful.  I am not delicate.  How is it that you could see something so different than what I am?"  

Aragorn sighed.  "I do not know how to answer that question, Legolas.  All I know is what I see now." The man winced and gently rubbed his thumb on the tip of the Elf's chin.   He spoke softly, almost as if to himself.  "What a warrior queen I have given Gondor.  A far better queen than either it or I deserve."  He rubbed gently as Legolas closed his eyes and leaned ever so slightly into the touch.  

Legolas finally opened his eyes and looked at the man with tortured eyes.  "I don't understand."   He then jerked his head and hand away as if he had been burned.  "Get out."   

"Legolas…" The king reached to comfort the elf, but his hand was shrugged off.  

"Leave me.  We will come to an understanding tomorrow.  I… I cannot think rationally now.  I don't want to do anything rash."  Legolas turned his back to the man and found his escape route blocked by the bedpost.  

Once again, Aragorn laid a hand on the narrow shoulder.  "I know you cannot understand.  It is not the way of your people to think in these ways.  Simple lust must be almost unfathomable to you."  He squeezed and then started rubbing Legolas' arm with a gentle pressure.  He leaned in and spoke softly, a mere fingers breadth from a delicate ear.  "But my feelings for you were never simple, I swear." 

Legolas shivered as he felt the hot breath slide across his ear.  Something woke inside and slithered beneath his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up and gooseflesh rise on his arms.  _::No.  Not her.  Not now.  I will not let her do this::  "Don't touch me."  His voice sounded weak and confused to his own ears.  He turned and looked at the man, failing to suppress a shudder as he did so.  "Please, just get out." _

Aragorn felt the shudder run through the small frame, and was shocked to see pain so evident in the eyes that turned towards him.  Yet the lithe body leaned closer to him, almost as if drawn despite the words that fell from the tight lips. "You war within yourself.  What do you fight?  I would help if you would but let me.   I cannot bear to see you in such pain." 

"Then don't look, Aragorn."  The Elf glanced at the empty area where the mirror once stood..  "I am alone.  Utterly alone.  There is no one here who knows who I am.  They see only what they want me to be." 

"You are not alone.  I am here, I know who you are and I would have you no other way."   Aragorn lifted his hand and caressed a pale cheek, then ever so gently brushed a lock of golden hair behind a delicate ear, allowing his fingers the lightest contact with the edge and pointed tip.  "Do not reject what I offer you out of hand." 

Legolas closed his eyes and shuddered.  In the pit of his stomach something tensed and then uncurled, sending warmth throughout his body.    _::No.  NO!  Go away!  I don't want you.::_

"And what would you offer me?"  Legolas pushed the feeling away from him, and opened his eyes.   "Would you free me from this if it were in your power, I wonder?"   Slender fingers came to rest on the golden collar, the nails making the slightest tapping noise on the metal as they made contact.  The pale skin bore only the slightest trace of the brutal scar that had marred it in the weeks before.   "And more importantly, what price would such a service bear?   What would you have of me in return?" 

Aragorn narrowed his eyes and frowned.  "You are cruel in your mockery.   I would only help you, nothing more." 

"Cruel?  I am cruel?"   The blue eyes widened.  "I am trapped in a strange place, in a body that is not my own, surrounded by those who are not my kind.  I am utterly alone except for my own mind, and I fear that too has turned against me.  I feel more of what I am bleeding away every day, and I wonder what I will become when there is nothing left."  Legolas paused and then sighed.  "Perhaps I am cruel.  I know not my own mind anymore." 

"Perhaps if you stopped fighting whatever it is you war against, your pain would stop and your mind would be clear again."  The words fell into the room like bitterly cold snowflakes and Legolas felt a chill run up his spine.  The man continued.  "Perhaps if you accepted what has happened, we could then turn our efforts to finding a way to make things more bearable as things stand -- to keep you from losing what you have of yourself."  

Legolas froze as the man's hand again traced the barest outline of his ear.  "You would have me give up this fight and become what you have made me?"  He was unable to tell if his shudder was from the thought or from the touch. 

"I would not have you in so much pain."  The grey eyes bore into the Elf's.  "I would have you as happy as I could make you, and I would like to have you here for Luthiél."  The man sighed again and stroked the golden hair beneath his hand absently.  "I cannot change this.  I wish that none of this ever happened, but mere wishing will not make that come to pass.  I have had the lands searched for anyone who could free you from this spell, but it seems that Davyn was unique in both his art and venom." 

"Elrond or Gandalf would know how to defeat his spell.  Or even Galadriel." Legolas ignored the hand on his hair as he considered the possibilities.  

"Perhaps.  But you would have to leave Luthiél here.  Even if I were to allow you to take her with you, which I will not, she is too young to travel."  

Whipping his hair from the man's hand with a jerk of his head, Legolas snapped.  "I will not leave her.  I cannot leave her."  

"Then you stay."  Aragorn said the words with firm finality.   "And we come to an understanding so Luthiél will be happy.  So that WE will be happy." 

"You mean so that YOU will be happy.  I understand you well enough, Man.  The urge to dispel your guilt over my betrayal must eat at you day and night."  Legolas could feel his lip curl in distaste as he spoke. 

Grey eyes went as cold and hard as the ice that covered the pond outside and the man drew himself tall and proud.  "I would not have you say such things.   You know as well as I that there were times you were not entirely unwilling."  A grim smile ghosted the thin lips.  "I'm sure you remember them well." 

Blindingly fast, Legolas buried his fist in the man's stomach, knuckles seeming to drive through skin and muscle.  Aragorn's eyes widened equally in pain and surprise as he doubled over.  It was an easy enough matter for the Elf to shove him the rest of the way to the ground, straddle the broad chest and wrap slender, pale, delicate hands around the throat of the king. 

Legolas bent forward and whispered, "All I know is that I could kill you so easily, if I desired."  The tone was quiet and at total odds with the storm that roiled in the wild blue eyes.   

Aragorn lay on his back and felt the cold from the stone floor radiate up through his back and into his chest.  He swallowed hard and looked up at the vision of beauty that stared at him with eyes that didn't seem to see him at all.  "Legolas."  He spoke around the thumb that had lodged itself firmly in his windpipe and realized the chill in his bones was not just from the floor, but from a slowly dawning sense of fear.   

The blue eyes blinked and looked through him.  "I could crush the life out of you right now.  And then I would be free."  Legolas said it almost as if the thought had never occurred to him before and the fingers seemed to tighten of their own accord.  "I would be myself again if you were dead, wouldn't I?"  He shook the neck in his hands violently when there was no immediate answer.  "WOULDN'T I?" 

The king struggled for air, each breath more painful than the last, as the grip seemed to grow tighter with each beat of his heart.   The slender fingers were branding their way into his flesh, the nails biting small semi-circles of pain into his neck.  It took all his will to keep his hands still and not fight the Elf that sat lightly on his chest and crushed the life from his body with hands that looked too delicate to cause any harm at all.  Only a small gurgle escaped his lips as he tried to speak, so he simply nodded. 

At that sound, Legolas blinked and then looked down at him with eyes that were suddenly sane again.  The flutter of the man's pulse tickled across his fingers and drew him back, beat by beat, to himself and what he was doing.  The grip slowly loosened and air burned its way back into Aragorn's lungs.   

"Why?"  The words came out as a croak from the king's abused throat.  "Why do you not just finish it now?  Surely you would be happier if I were dead."  

Legolas released the man's neck as if he had been burned and crawled to sit on the floor against the bedstead.  Drawing his knees up to his chest, he considered the question for a long moment and then answered.  "I do not know.  I think that if I were to do such a thing, I would lose even more of my self than if I stay the way I am.  As much as I want to be free, I could not bear the price I would pay for such an action."  He leaned his forehead on his arms and sighed.  "I am defeated."  

Aragorn sat up, rubbed his sore throat and crawled to kneel next to the huddled form that seemed to shrink in upon itself as he watched.   "You will have to learn not to do such things.  The servants will talk." 

There was a slight snort from behind the folded arms.  Legolas looked up and raised an eyebrow at the man.  

The king arranged himself to sit in front of the Elf and then met the eyes squarely.  "You will stay.  It is the only way." 

Legolas stared at the man for a long moment before lowering his eyes to look at the floor.  "I will stay."  

The king tried to capture the small chin in his hand but Legolas shook his head, refusing to look at the man.  "And we come to an understanding now." His voice was still scratchy.  

"What would you have of me?"  Legolas' voice was soft but filled with pain.  

Aragorn winced at the tone.  "I will not hurt you, Legolas.  Nor would I make you do that which you find distasteful or wrong." 

"What would you have of me, then?  Do not toy with me, just tell me."  Legolas looked up and his eyes flashed for a moment before he looked back down at the floor, his very posture proclaiming his defeat. 

With a sad smile, Aragorn spoke.  "Don't do that.  I would rather die than see your spirit extinguished."  He shook his head and continued.  "I would simply have you act in front of others as if there is harmony between us.   I would have you be my glittering Elf Queen and blind all with your beauty and wit."  His hand came up of its own accord and gently brushed a pale cheek.  "I would not have you in such pain or conflict anymore." 

Legolas shuddered under the touch and turned his face towards the hearth, watching as the fire seemed to die before his eyes.  "You never ask anything for yourself, do you?  It's always for the good of someone else." 

There was no answer from the figure across from him and the tense silence stretched between them. 

Finally Legolas spoke again.  "If I do what you want, what benefit do I get?"  He buried his face in his arms as he waited. 

"Peace for yourself and happiness for Luthiél."  The man leaned forward.  "I would think that would be reward enough." 

There was a long silence from the huddled figure and then, just when Aragorn thought to speak again to break the quiet, one word fell from the hidden lips.  "Fine."  

Aragorn blinked and cocked his head.  "What?" 

"I said 'Fine'."  Legolas did not raise his head to look at the man, but merely spoke from between his folded arms. 

"Is that it?" The king could not help the surprise that was in his voice.  "You have nothing else to say?" 

"What would you have me say?  Would you have me curse you and swear and implore the Valar to strike you down for this?"  This time Legolas did look up briefly and then hid his face again.  "I will do as you ask, for Luthiél's sake and her sake alone."  

Aragorn raised an eyebrow and rubbed his throat thoughtfully.  "That was entirely too easy.  I am still alive and unperforated.  Are you deceiving me in some way, Legolas?" 

There was a strangled laugh from the huddled form in front of him as the Elf raised his head to meet his eyes.  "Me?  Deceive you?  Since when have I misled you or lied to you since this entire ordeal began?  It is simple.  You have won, I have lost.  There is nothing else to be said." 

Gently, Aragorn reached forward to reverently touch the golden hair and trace the barest edge of a small ear.  Goose bumps raised themselves on a pale arm and neck in response to his touch.  "There are no winners here.  Only those who would make the best of the position we have been given."   He smiled tightly.  "Sometimes surrender is not so bad, Legolas.   You'll see."   

Something odd flashed in the blue eyes that watched him so warily, but disappeared so quickly he thought he might have imagined it.  After another strained silence, he stood up.  "To show you that I trust you and your word, after this night you shall be left alone if you so wish.  I know you would do nothing to harm Luthiél or yourself.  I trust you implicitly.  I know that you have no deceit in you." 

The Elf stood slowly and nodded.  "Thank you." 

On impulse the man leaned over and placed his finger on the rosebud lips.  "Do not thank me.  If not for me none of this would have happened.  I know this."  His finger traced the soft outline of the pink skin as he spoke.  "I would make things right as best I could."  

Legolas shuddered at the touch, but simply nodded.  

"Good night, Legolas." With those simple words, the man turned and retired to his own chambers.  The oaken door made a solid thunk as it closed and then was locked from the other side. 

Lips warm and tingling with unwelcome sensation, Legolas narrowed his eyes and glared at the door.  The sound of movement in the other room continued, and then stopped, eventually followed by the sound of snores. 

With a fluid motion, Legolas crossed the room to the door to the sitting room and threw the bolt, locking out any who would disturb him. 

His attention was drawn back to the fireplace and the baby who slept there.  

Silently, he built up the fire and marveled at how the warm golden light turned her pale skin into a color so much like her father's.  He then shook his head.  Such thoughts were not good to consider.  If he thought about that, then he would think about how much her father loved her and how much they would miss each other.  He could not bear to follow such thoughts to their natural conclusion. 

He paused and listened intently, but the hour was late and there were none awake or near to hear what happened next. 

He counted three flagstones from the corner of the hearth and tugged hard.  With a small grinding sound the stone wriggled and then came loose, revealing a small cavity underneath with a small leather bag hidden there.  

He gripped the bag and opened it, spilling the contents onto the hearth.  Two small rings glinted there, and a handful of silver and gold coins, a spool of golden thread, and some silk ribbons.   A small glass vial with a clear liquid completed the set. 

The first ring was picked up and closely examined.  A small ruby nestled in a setting of finely worked gold.  It had been easy enough to keep the ring last time Valda had dressed him up for some important occasion or another.  It was small enough to not be noticed missing, yet big enough to have value.  

He then picked up the other ring, a square emerald in a basket of finely worked gold.  He held the two rings together and showed them to the sleeping child.  "These two should buy our way past the city gate, I hope.  I think I can get some more before we leave.  The more, the better."   He lightly touched the coins.  "And these should buy us some food and necessities as we travel to the Havens."  The thread and ribbons were next.  "And this should get us past the maid who sleeps in front of the doorway every night.  She should be easily bought."  His eyes fell on the glass bottle.  "And this will take care of Aragorn."  Guilt filled him as he spoke the words. 

With a sigh, he regarded the pitifully small pile, and then touched his fingers to his lips.  They still tingled from the man's touch.  The guilt was burned away by slowly growing dread.  _::We need to go, and soon.:: _

Shaking his head, Legolas reached down to run a finger over the plump cheek of the baby.  "He is right on one thing.  You are still too young to travel and it is too cold.  We'll have to wait a while longer."  He returned his hand to his own lips to touch them again.  They were warm and soft against his fingers.  "I think I can wait.  I know I can play his game while you grow strong."  He shook his head sadly.  "I have no deceit in me, he says.   How little he knows." 

He ran his hand up his arm softly, almost in a caress.  "And I can endure his attentions, and even his touch if I must."   Something slid beneath his skin again as he thought of the man's hands on his body again.  Every hair on his arms stood on end and a shiver went down his spine.  "Grow quickly, Luthiél.  I can wait, but I don't know if she can."  The words were barely whispered, and the baby slept on. 

……………..

Notes….

I'm sorry this took so long to update.  I hope this small snippit makes things more endurable, and I'm working on the next part, I swear!  Those who know me or have been following my LiveJournal would know what happened, but I'll just sum up quickly.  

I went to the midnight premiere of The Two Towers on December 18, 2002.  I woke up the next morning unable to turn my head.  This developed into extreme pain, numbness and loss of use of my right hand.  After seven weeks off work, extreme pain, an MRI panic attack followed by an open MRI on a double dosage of Valium, it was discovered that I had somehow herniated a disc in my neck  and it was pressing on my spinal cord.    I have had some recovery and am working half days, and undergoing physical therapy to see if that will help clear this up.  Otherwise, I'm looking at injections in my spine or surgery, neither of which are really happy, fuzzy concepts for me. 

So that is my roundabout explanation about why this has taken so long to update.  I apologize.  I really do.  

I know several people have emailed me and I WILL answer them, I swear.  I'm just a little slowed down at times, good days and bad, you know.   Some days it hurts to type, some days I can't feel my thumb, and some days I'm just fine. 

This story will be finished…   I swear it.

Also… again, for the record…. I know I've said this before but… this is an AU. ALTERNATE UNIVERSE.  Meaning that it is by my rules.  I know my way around the works of JRR, but I'm not a huge Canon snob.  I will make things fit as I can, but my heart is not going to break if I get a few things wrong.  I also stated before that I personally don't like working so much with the Canon characters because I don't want to take them rabidly Out Of Character (OOC).   

As to Lanelese's hair color, Yes, she is a champagne blonde.  And she's cute as a button too.  Just ask her, and she'll tell you all about how cute she is.  Seriously.    She and Clotild are real people, transplanted, personality and all, into my story.  

And I do love all my reviewers, even if I don't always respond promptly to you.  Thank you for being so patient with me.  


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer**

I don't own Nothing.  Nada. Bupkis.  Squat.  Diddley.

Do you realize it's been so long since I've updated that I've forgotten how to write a disclaimer?  Yeesh!

Sorry it's been so long.  The health crises have seemed to resolve themselves for the moment, which is good.  This makes me very happy.  I have finished another original work that I'm shopping around for publication.  This makes me very happy, but not as happy as I would be if it actually gets sold.  Cross your fingers for me on that one.

And while I usually don't respond to reviewers individually, I do have to ask someone why they had to read 18 chapters of this fic to decide they didn't like it.  I mean, I can usually tell in the first chapter or so…. But that's just me. 

Pale winter sun weakly shone through the heavy glass windows.  Legolas sat in the window seat, head thrown back and eyes closed as if drinking in that small amount of radiance.   The flaws in the glass caused small ripples of light and shadow making it seem as if the Elf were underwater, Disa thought.   That and the utter stillness of the slender body lent an air of melancholy that was tangible in the small room. 

She shook her head, her dark, heavy hair falling around her shoulders.  Of course there would be an air of melancholy.  How could there not be?    

She watched silently from her refuge on the soft mattress.  The heavy bed curtains had been tied back to allow her to view the entire room while she'd played with Luthiél on the deep featherbed.  The baby now slept next to her, sweet mouth turned up into a slight smile, her limbs still in place from where they'd fallen when she'd suddenly succumbed to sleep in mid-squeal.

Disa lay on her stomach, rested her chin on her fists and considered the Elf in the window.  

Her face drew itself up an expression of deepest concentration as she squinted and tried to picture the being before her as male.  Her eyes flickered across the form, her thoughts almost readable on her face.  There --  the shoulders would be broader and the frame taller.  And there -- the hips more narrow.  And there -- the chin wouldn't be so delicately sculpted nor the cheekbones so gracefully carved.  And surely the lips would be thinner, not drawn up into a cupid's bow.

Her eyes narrowed even further as she continued.  There would be less at the rear and more in the upper arms.  And the hands – the hands most of all.  They wouldn't be so small and delicate looking, but larger and more capable looking.  They would look like her eldest brother's hands, with blunt fingers and hard calluses built from years of training with knife or sword or bow.

For a moment, she had a vision set in her mind of a noble Elf lord taking his rest in a shaft of wan sunlight, dust motes dancing as if in worship before his vitality, the very air around him reflecting his feline strength and masculinity. 

And then Legolas opened his eyes and broke the spell, snapping back to the way that Disa had always seen him: delicate and breathtakingly beautiful.  The dust motes still danced, oblivious to the change in the creature they praised. 

Disa blinked again, trying to recapture the picture she had held in her mind's eye for such a fleeting moment, but her concentration was broken when Legolas met her eyes and then looked to the sitting room door.  

She lifted herself up onto her elbows, careful not to jostle the baby overmuch and turned to look at the door as well.  Legolas' senses were much sharper than her own and could hear someone approaching from what seemed furlongs away.  

She turned back to see the Elf adjust his clothing in preparation for the visitor.  Leggings clung to slender legs in a way that Disa had first thought scandalous, but had eventually gotten used to.  The fitted tunic was longer than a man's – covering almost to the knees – but side slits allowed horseback riding or baby dandling with equal ease.   Embroidery danced across the bodice and sleeves, Clotild's work adding a bright look to the otherwise plain clothing. 

Truly, Disa had been appalled when she'd first seen the outfit.  She had been even more nonplussed when she'd begun to see other members of the court and nobility wearing similar clothing and intricate braids.  Now, while she certainly would never wear leggings herself, she had grown accustomed enough to the fashion to not snipe.  

The soft knock at the door was not a surprise, nor was Aragorn's face peering into the room.  He had made a habit of daily visits for a while now, presumably to see his child.  Disa knew better, however.  She'd seen this same dance countless times between her sisters and their suitors and even her mother and father.

Legolas put a slender finger to his lips and then pointed at the sleeping child on the bed.   The man carefully shut the door behind him and walked across the room, cradling something in his arms.   A hand caressed the baby's hair with a touch as light as air as he walked by, and a wink was thrown in Disa's direction.  The girl studiously ignored him, choosing instead to focus on a dropped thread in the coverlet.  

Aragorn stood for a long moment before the window, apparently drinking in the sight of the Elf in the sun.  He blinked and then cleared his throat.  "You look like nothing more than a hothouse flower up there, Legolas.  You bloom and give color to even the most blighted winter while you yearn for the sun and spring." 

He didn't see Disa bury her face in the bed to muffle her snort of derision.  

Legolas raised both eyebrows.  "You compare me to a…"  He paused as if trying to wrap his brain around the concept, "…to a flower?  I don't much care for that comparison, I think.  I am neither delicate nor especially beautiful."   The Elf then raised the left eyebrow higher.  "I am no flower, Aragorn.  If I were, I would have gutted you with my thorns long ago."

Laughing quietly, Aragorn nodded.  "Yes, you would have.  But is it not well known that the most beautiful wild blooms have the sharpest thorns?  I think their beauty is enhanced by the danger."  He continued after a quiet chuckle at the thought.  "What would you prefer, then?  I can wax poetic when I try."  Aragorn smiled ingratiatingly and bowed, holding the small bundle behind him.  

"I'd prefer nothing at all, actually."  The elf stretched and swung his legs down to the floor in a single catlike motion that had Disa remembering her vision of the Elf Lord with even more clarity than before.  "As you can see, Luthiél is sleeping.  If you like I can send a messenger to get you after she wakes and eats." 

With barely a glance at the sleeping baby and the young woman glaring at him from the bed, Aragorn smiled.  "I brought you a gift, Legolas." 

Disa raised her head a little higher, trying to see what he held in his hand.  He had brought gifts before; that was becoming commonplace.  Legolas tried to refuse gracefully, but the gifts were often small, thoughtful items that the king drew upon his memories of his friend and swordmate to make them meaningful to just them.  She expected nothing more this time.   

It was for that reason that she felt her eyes grow round when Aragorn drew out a wooden casket and opened it to show the contents to the Elf.  

Blue fire sparkled against the red velvet lining as he tilted the contents of the box to catch the light in different ways.  "It's a custom here.   Luthiél has lived and thrived for a season.  She's old enough now to be presented to the court and…"  He paused and swallowed hard.  "…and custom dictates that I show you my gratitude for giving me such a beautiful daughter."  The man kept his eyes fixed on the contents of the box, not daring to look up at the Elf.

Disa then looked to Legolas.  She knew that the Elf cared little for jewels or riches, but the workmanship of the items in the casket was exquisite.  She could tell from across the room.  

A small hand reached into the box and brought forth a thick bracelet set with sapphires of a rich blue, each stone cut to the same size and set in a cage of gold wire, surrounded by gold in a knotwork motif.    "This is beautiful, Aragorn."  The elf examined the bracelet, noticing the painstaking detail that made it so lovely.  "My father would have been envious of such a thing."  To Legolas' mind, that was a high compliment for something he knew or cared little about, and jewelry was one of those things.  

The man smiled and reached into the box and drew out a pair of earrings that made Disa gasp with awe.  They matched the bracelet that in turn matched the collar and the stone that nestled at the Elf's throat.   

"These are beautiful, Aragorn.  Truly they are.  But you know that I have little fondness for jewelry.  Why do you give me such things?"  Legolas asked the obvious question that floated in his mind even as he frowned at the metal post on the earrings that were supposed to go through his earlobes.

"I told you.  Luthiél is old enough to be presented to the court as my daughter.  While she cannot be confirmed as my heir, she must be recognized as my child and receive oaths from my nobles."  

Blinking in surprise, Legolas dropped the bracelet back into the box with a heavy thump.  "Surely you jest.  She's just an infant." 

The man rubbed his beard and sighed.  "No jesting.  The custom is to protect her as well as show her to the people.  While most nobles will think nothing of killing a child that stands in their way, most of them will think twice before breaking a solemn oath."  He shrugged and half smiled.  "Such is the morality of the mighty."

Legolas turned back towards the window.  "I will never understand humans.  Never."  

"You will understand us as much as we understood Elf-kind, dear friend.  I think we are both equally inscrutable to each other." 

"Indeed."  Legolas turned back from his view of ice covered trees and bleak walls.  "And what else would you have of me for this occasion?  Obviously there is something more."

The man shrugged and placed the casket on the table.  "I would have from you the same as I would have at any other court – be my glittering Elf Queen."  He gestured towards the jewels.  "I would have you glitter a little more than usual, of course.  This is a special occasion."  

"I see."  There was a look in the Elf's eyes that Disa hadn't seen before, a hardness or even a flash of fury that was so quickly hidden that she questioned if she had ever seen it.  

Aragorn merely nodded, and then sighed.  "I know this pains you, Legolas, but it must be done.  And we must furthermore convince those who watch that there will be more children.  Observations have already been made about that amongst the staff.  They know that we live separately."  He made as if to touch the Elf on the cheek and then lowered his hand.  "Of course we live separately.  We have too much pain between us."  His voice was low and sad. 

"Yes."  Legolas echoed the tone.  "Too much pain."  His expression turned distant as he looked at the jewelry in the casket.  "Is this mine, then?  Mine alone, and not Gondor's?"

"Of course."  Aragorn nodded.  "You deserve them and more.  They are little enough repayment for all you have suffered at my hands." 

Legolas nodded.  "Yes, they are far from enough, but I accept them."  There was a strange finality to the words, Disa thought. 

There was a long, awkward silence between the two before Aragorn climbed to the window seat to look out upon the frozen landscape.  "Spring will be here soon, and the garden will thaw and come back to life."  He gestured, and Legolas came to stand next to him.  "Do you think you will thaw and live again with the new season?  You are as glacial as that pond outside."  He shook his head. "That came out wrong.  You are distant and frigid to everyone.  I would expect that to me, but not to Valda or Clotild or Lanelese or little Disa over there.  Something weighs heavily on your mind.  If you were to tell me of it, perhaps I could do something."  

"Can you take me back to the way that I was?"  The Elf waited as the man lowered his eyes to callused hands.   After a long moment, Legolas sighed.  "I apologize.  I am cruel in my sadness.  I will make an effort to not be.  Forgive me."

Aragorn brightened, reached over and grasped a slender hand.  "There is no need for forgiveness.  All here love you and would do anything for you."   He rubbed the fingers with the ball of his thumb.  "I would do anything for you."  Disa turned away from the two of them at the look in his eyes.  This was far too intimate for her to witness.  

She heard Legolas' soft voice answer, "I know you would.  And if I could bring myself to stomach such a thing, I would let you.  But I cannot."  She heard a hard swallow, but didn't know if it was from the King or her lady.  "I am sorry."  The soft voice dripped with pain beyond telling.  

She kept her eyes on the far door for a long time as the heavy silence filled the room.  When she finally turned her eyes back to the window, the king had taken Legolas' chin in his hand.  The normally pale face was flushed and the eyes glittered with something she would have called a cross between hate and need.  The pair were frozen in a strange tableau, every muscle tense, every hair on end.  Even the dusts motes were unmoving, seeming to wait for them to breathe.

Turning her eyes back towards the baby, Disa did the only thing she could think to break the tension.  She pinched Luthiél on her leg, causing the baby to wake and scream at the top of her lungs.   

The two in the window jumped and then looked back towards the bed.  Aragorn leapt down from the window and reached for his daughter, sweeping her up into his arms and instantly calming her screams into small sobs that subsided into sleepy yawns and then back into slumber.  Cradling the child gently, he spoke.  "The court will be in a fortnight, Legolas.  I've already instructed Valda about what needs to be done."

Legolas, still in the window, wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging against the cold that he didn't feel.  "Valda needs her rest, Aragorn.  The child drains her."

The king nodded and rocked the slumbering child in his arms, a tender expression filling his eyes.  "Yes.  We'll let her rest after this.  I promise."  

Disa swung herself off the bed, curtseyed precisely to the king, and then held her arms up for Luthiél.  The king smiled down at her and placed the child -- heavy with sleep and smelling of good things like milk and soap -- in her arms.  He patted Disa on the head and spoke again, not looking at the window, but directing his words towards the figure there.  "We all play our roles here, Legolas.  I pretend to be the all knowing, all powerful king, even though I question myself more harshly than any of my rivals could.  Arnlaug plays his role of all knowing, wise councilor to the hilt.  Even Disa here plays her role of being the obedient servant, even though she's seething at me behind those pretty eyes of hers."

"I take your point, Aragorn.  I will play my part in this little farce we have.  I already play my part far better than you realize at times.  Does that make you happy?"  Legolas spoke, never tearing his eyes from the garden outside.

"Ecstatic."  The king bowed towards the figure in the window.  "Be sure to wear the jewels.  I must show the nobles how likely we are to produce further children, even if we will never be more than distant acquaintances that hurl insults at each other across the room.  I want my throne secure."

He did not wait for a response but left the room, leaving Disa feeling as though she had missed a silent argument that was crueler than what she had heard.   "Lady?"  She spoke quietly, guilt filling her for hurting the baby.

Legolas climbed back up to the window seat and picked up the hand mirror that had been concealed in the cushions there.   It was of polished bronze, the only thing that Aragorn would allow him.   He studied himself in the reflection there, the golden light that it reflected giving the pale face an almost human color.  

Disa cleared her throat and shifted the baby onto her shoulder, waiting to be noticed. 

If she had asked Legolas what he saw, he would have answered honestly.  He would have told her that he saw a blurred vision of the woman inside, her eyes sad and pained.  He would have told her that she wasn't there in the mirror at all but on his own face, looking out through his eyes and waiting for the time when she would be free.

But Disa didn't ask.  She stood and waited, and heard him mutter to himself, "It's not big enough or clear enough.  It's not enough.  She is still here."

"Lady", she asked, her voice barely audible except to his ears.  

This time Legolas started, put down the mirror and looked at her.  "Yes?"

Disa stepped closer, looking straight into the clear blue eyes.  She licked her lips and checked the empty room for any invisible listeners.  "You're leaving, aren't you?  You're going away.  You're doing what he wants so he won't suspect, aren't you?"

Legolas stiffened, but said nothing.

Disa continued, the words falling from her mouth faster than she could control them.  "You're going away, and you're going to take Luthiél with you.  Why?"

Clearing his throat, Legolas spoke.  "Among my people there are those who might be able to help me break the spell that binds me to this body."  He sighed and looked in the mirror again.  "I'm slowly forgetting who I was in favor of what Davyn made of me.  I can't let that happen, Disa."  

"Do you really think they can free you?  Really?"  

Lowering the mirror, Legolas looked back at her.  "I don't know, but I have to try.  Elrond and Galadriel are both strong and wise."  He looked down at himself and grimaced.  "If nothing else, I think that Galadriel and I are of a size now.  She always did have the most beautiful gowns.  Surely she can share." 

The girl ignored the small attempt at humor and leaned forward.  "Take me with you."  Her voice was so soft that Legolas could barely hear her.  

"What?"  His jaw dropped in shock.

"Take me with you."  She was a little louder this time.  "If you leave, I'm either dead or stuck in some horrible marriage to someone my father chooses.  I don't want one, and I can't accept the other."  

Leaning forward, Legolas put his hand on her shoulder.  "I can't take you with me.  There is no place for mortals in our world."  He paused and furrowed his brow.  "And what of Royd?"

Disa smiled grimly.  "Father would aim much higher than a son of a common born councilor if you were gone.   He would forbid it, and keep me available for a much higher match.  It doesn't matter that I might not wish it."

Legolas nodded.  "Well, I'm here now.  Perhaps I can drop a suggestion in Aragorn's ear.  He listens to me for some reason.  If we can get things done before I leave, the better for all of us." 

Rocking the baby slightly, Disa spoke again.  "I would go with you.  I would leave everything behind for you.  I have come to have great affection for you."  She blushed and continued whispering, this time sounding almost confused.  "I think if I were to see you as you really are, I would love you even more."

Closing his eyes, Legolas sighed heavily.  "I have affection for you too, but not of that kind.  I don't think I can ever have that kind of affection for anyone again, Disa."  He shook his head.  "I am ruined forever."

Brown eyes brimming with tears, Disa nodded.  "I understand."  She turned her head away so that he could not see her weep.  "Please talk to him about Royd, then.  I think I could be happy with him."

"I will", Legolas promised her back as she left the room, trailing sadness behind her like the wake of a ship on the sea that he longed to cross.   Raising the mirror again, his gaze was caught by that of the woman.  She mocked him with her sad eyes.  

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 

The blue fabric of the dress was as dark as the night sky in summer, and the diamonds that Lanelese had sewn on the skirt and bodice twinkled as though Elbereth had set them there herself.   The fabric was thick but soft, almost iridescent in the way that it shifted from dark to darker to lighter in the light.

Valda twitched the skirt first this way, then that, seeking the perfect arrangement of fabric and light.  She then turned her attention back to the hidden laces on the front of the bodice, making sure that they were truly invisible.   The hands were light, brushing unseen specks of lint from the dark fabric.  They danced across the smooth skin of the breasts that swelled above the bodice and then paused before passing over the golden collar at his throat.  They danced again over his hair, checking each braid, each jeweled hairclasp.  They lightly touched the earrings that burned in his lobes, gently straightening them as he hissed in pain under his breath.    

She drew back her hands, her face etched with concern over top of the fatigue that she carried all the time now.  Dark circles under her eyes made them seem deeper and more expressive, but all they spoke of was her exhaustion.  Legolas had started to protest her piercing his ears until he looked into her eyes and saw how utterly tired she was.  A slight sting and a small hole that would heal quickly were worth not vexing her any more than she needed at this time in her pregnancy.

Lanelese walked into the room carrying Luthiél.  The baby wore a dress almost exactly like her mothers, down to the diamonds that sparkled on the skirt.  Each and every stone had been pulled and tugged on by every woman in the room repeatedly to be sure that they would not come loose.  Princesses should not eat diamonds, no matter how royal she was. 

Luthiél had been nursed and cajoled and rocked.  Then she had been nursed again and again until she was so satiated that there was no way she could possibly be hungry for hours.  She was sweet and fragrant from a quick bath. Blond hair curled around her temples and she was full of smiles.   Legolas prayed that her good mood would last through the court.  

He accepted the heavy bundle, smiled down at the baby and was rewarded by a squeal and smile that would have melted even the most frozen heart.  Happy in the nest of her mother's arms, Luthiél returned to her life's mission of trying to shove her entire fist into her mouth.  Perhaps one day she would figure out to close her hand before trying.

Valda smiled and sat down in one of the chairs, exhaustion etched in every move.  "She grows more beautiful every day, Legolas.  I can only hope that our child is as healthy and beautiful." 

Swaying slightly to rock the child, Legolas smiled down at her.  "I'm sure he will be.  How could he not with two such loving and concerned parents?"  

Patting her rounded stomach, Valda laughed.  "Well, if it is a he, surely we have a warrior on our hands the way he pummels me inside."  She paused and smiled, "And if it's a girl, why not a warrior that way as well?"

Clotild walked over to them both and wiped Luthiél's face dry with a small cloth.  She turned her attention to Valda after a nod to Legolas.  "Would you like some help getting dressed, Lady?  You are going to attend the court?"

Valda sighed and leaned back.  "Yes, I wouldn't miss it for the world, but I am so tired.  Perhaps I can just sit behind the thrones and watch?"  She looked beseechingly at Legolas who smiled and laughed.

"Of course.  I'll have a chair put beside me for you.  Lanelese, Clotild and Disa are more than capable of taking care of both of us, Valda.  You need to rest."  He shook his head at the next thought in his mind.  "I remember what it felt like."  ::_How__ odd that I can stand here and commiserate with a pregnant woman.  I would have never thought such a thing before.:: _

He rocked Luthiél in his arms and smelled her hair as he watched the others help Valda into a gown and dress her hair. Humming tunelessly under his breath, he noted how strong and healthy the baby was.  She would be able to travel soon.  

The scurrying and activity of the women around him resolved itself into a pattern, with himself at the center.  Some of them sang as they worked, others gossiped gaily.  There was no sadness in the room, only anticipation of an important day and a grand feast and party.   

The lesser maids spoke of certain squires and men-at-arms that they would like to know better while Lanelese told Clotild of the wonderful outfit she had made for Bryn that matched her own gown of rose.  "Well, he said he'd rather die than wear it, so I started crying and sobbing.  That didn't work but when I made to shave my head he gave right in."  The pretty maid dimpled and Legolas made a mental note to try not to laugh at the sight of poor rose-colored Bryn.  He suspected it would be a challenge almost as great as Glorfindel's fight with the Balrog.  

Clotild laughed, her green eyes twinkling.  They matched the color of her gown exactly, as did the emerald pendant that she wore around her neck, a gift from Councilor Regin.  That was another match that was blooming before his eyes.   

Disa lingered in the corner, listening to Lanelese with a smile on her lips.  She had chosen burgundy again as her color, the intensity of the color bringing out the rich darkness of her hair and eyes.  She was lovely and would surely catch Royd's eye tonight.  A few judicious words had been placed to both Aragorn and Arnlaug about the two and with luck a match could be made there as well. 

He smiled.  This would be a good day, surrounded by happy people and good wishes.  This would be the thing he missed the most when he left, the feeling of easy affection between the women in this room.  He could almost bring himself to feel guilty about the pain he would cause when he left.

The feeling of guilt was erased when Aragorn walked in the room.   He bowed deeply to all the ladies in the room, even the lesser maids.  They all tittered and curtseyed back except Legolas.  He stood where he was, nodding his head in greeting.

The king wore a rich dark blue overtunic.  Picked out in silver threads on the cuffs and hem were rows of small white trees, each done in painstaking detail.  He wore on his breast a silver pin matching the motif, and a silver buckle on his belt.  The undertunic was a dark burgundy with gold embroidered bands, and the leggings were a dark charcoal.  Even Legolas privately had to admit he cut a striking figure. 

Aragorn walked forward to stand in front of Legolas.  "And here are the two most important ladies in my life."  He bowed even deeper as Legolas silently seethed at the way he was addressed.   Grey eyes glinted up at him from the depth of the bow as the king acknowledged his stab had been purposeful.

Straightening up, he opened his arms.  Legolas hesitated for a heartbeat and then passed Luthiél to him. The baby cooed to her father and grasped at his hair and face.  Aragorn's face softened and he kissed his daughter on the forehead before cradling her in his arm.  "Are we ready, Ladies?  The court awaits the guest of honor." He smiled radiantly and offered his other elbow to the Elf who silently stood by.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Luthiél greeted her first Lord from the security of Legolas' lap with wide blue eyes and a look of such intense concern that the Baron chuckled during his oath of fealty to Aragorn and his family.   The next four or five were met with equal scrutiny, as if they were strange and frightening animals to be studied at a great distance.  After them, she began to accept their homage as her due, smiling and flirting with each one as they came up and then thurping wet raspberries through their words.  

It didn't matter, though.  Even Legolas could see that the people were charmed with their princess.  Her smiles and coos were remarked upon and greeted with smiles in return.  Aragorn paid constant attention to his daughter, at times perching her in his own lap until she began to fuss for her mother.  

Legolas had spotted poor rose-colored Bryn hiding in the back of the hall when Lanelese hissed her displeasure at his wearing a dark cloak over his colorful finery.  It was obvious that there would be hell to pay as soon as the court was over.  Legolas found himself pitying poor Bryn even more than he thought possible as he lost his battle not to laugh at the squire's plight. 

He had lost count of the people, lost count of the number of gifts presented to the baby, lost count of the number of times Aragorn had leaned over to caress his hand or cheek in another overtly public display of affection.  It was as if time had started to flow even slower than honey dripping out of a comb.   

Luthiél became restive and began to cry hungrily as she sucked on her fists, kicking and thrashing when all other attempts to calm her failed.  A small curtained alcove had been prepared outside the far end of the great hall, and Legolas retired there to nurse the exhausted baby.   

The room was small, but richly appointed with heavy hangings to block the noise, and a brazier in the corner to provide warmth and light.  An upholstered couch provided a place for Valda to relax and put up her swollen feet while Legolas sat on the floor, piles of cushions arranged to make him more comfortable.  

It was during this time of quiet that Legolas realized he no longer considered nursing as the child taking from him as him freely giving to her.   Perhaps it was simply his own feeling of attachment to Luthiél that made him feel this way, or maybe it was a part of the woman inside running loose in his mind.  It seemed to him that perhaps that was the worst she could do after all this time, and that was really not such a bad thing. 

He smiled down at the baby in his arms.  Her bright eyes were opening and closing, starting to roll back in her head in a familiar fight with sleep.  A smile traced his lips as he watched her finally succumb to a deep slumber.  Today had been a good day.  The food smelled delicious, he had spotted Synan in the back of the hall, and he was surrounded by people he trusted.  The feeling of contentment was surprising but not unwelcome.  It was a good day.   

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 

Legolas drank deeply of the honeyed wine, enjoying the light, sweet taste on his tongue.  It was not in his nature to overindulge, but tonight he felt as though the good feeling he had through the day deserved a small amount of levity and celebration.  He turned back to the trader Synan on his left, and smiled.  The man was regaling him with trader's tales, each one more nonsensical than the last.  

"And so you say there is a land of people who have the heads of dogs?"  Legolas shook his head.  "I do not believe it."  He shook his head again.  "Inconceivable."

The dark man smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the torchlight.  "Ah, perhaps inconceivable to you, but not to the traders who saw them.  They tell me that they not only have the heads of dogs, but tails as well that wag whenever they negotiate.  You can always tell when you've hit a good deal by how much the tail wags as you dicker."  

Laughter bubbled past the Elf's lips as he visualized delicate negotiations marred by the wagging of tails and lolling of tongues.  "Inconceivable", he repeated. 

Synan merely smiled more and then leaned forward.  "I sent one of my sons north and he told me of a great forest that he traveled through.  He said the trees were as tall as the sky with leaves of beaten gold.  The forest itself was silent and deserted but still filled with great power.  They did not linger under those boughs."  

Legolas nodded.  "Yes.  Lothlorian.  My kinfolk used to live there."   He shook his head sadly.  "They've gone west now along with most of my people."

The man cocked his head.  "Why do you linger, Lady?  I would hesitate to guess that it is not for love that you remain."  He narrowed his eyes at Aragorn and then back to the Elf.   "I am not a smart man, but I can see what is before my eyes."

Hand brushing the blue stone at his throat, Legolas winced.  "I am bound."  The words came out as the barest whisper and he glanced to see if he had been heard.  Aragorn talked on, and absently reached over to pat a silk covered arm as if he knew the way the discussion had turned. 

Synan nodded as if there was no further explanation needed.  "There are many strange things in the world, are there not?  Forests made of beaten gold and cursed Elf queens.  Why do you find dog headed people so hard to accept?"  He steepled his fingers and looked across them as if there were discussing the most important of contracts.  

"Because dog headed people do not exist.  And that is that."  Legolas drank again, amused despite himself by the conversation.  

"But there are people to the north who say that Elves do not exist, but here I sit speaking of impossibilities and improbabilities and things that are inconceivable with someone who fits every sense of those words."   The man jabbed a finger at Legolas as he made his point.  The heavy fabric of his robes shifted colors in the torchlight and lit the embroidery telling the story of his life with strange shadows.  It almost seemed as if the figures were dancing.  

Legolas opened and closed his mouth, thinking of a response.  "You yourself have seen an Elf now, but you yourself have never seen a dog headed person.  While you have evidence of my existence, you have none of theirs except another trader's word." He leaned forward and poked the man in the arm.  "How can you give credit to that which you have never seen?"

Synan opened his hands and held them palms up.  "The word of a trader is inviolate.  He would never lie to me about such things, especially never to make the goods he sold me more rare and valuable.  If he says that he had to sail across a sea of poisonous serpents and fight thirty dragons to reach the land of the dog headed people, then I believe him without question."  The man's lips twitched at the ridiculousness of his own words.

Raising his goblet in salute, Legolas spoke, "Well then, how can I dispute such overwhelming evidence?  I bow in the face of your logic, Synan.  I will admit to the possibility of such things as dog headed people because of your compelling argument."  

The man threw back his head and laughed uproariously, drawing the attention of many in the room.  There was good natured laughter at the dark stranger who made the queen smile so.  

The man leaned over and spoke softly now.  "If I were a braver man, or a younger man, or even a man who did not need to have treaties with such powerful countries as this, I would send my sons here to steal you away in the middle of the night and carry you away with one of my caravans far into the desert.  There I would house you in a tent of gleaming white silk like the moon come to rest above the dunes."  He paused and drank his wine.  "And when I had you there, I would put you on a white stallion with gold bells and red tassels on his bridle and gold laid into his saddle.   And then I would set you free, because no wild thing such as you should be bound." 

Legolas stared, mouth open in shock, as the man shook his head and continued.  "But I am not a brave man, or a young man, or even man who can live without treaties.  I merely am what I am, and all I can do is bring you gifts and make you laugh.  It is little enough, I suppose." 

"It is more than I could ever ask for, Synan.  Truly, I could not ask for more from anyone."  Legolas stared into the bottom of his goblet.  It was time for a refill. 

Synan leaned back and signaled to one of his servants who passed him a small box and a flask.  "In fact, I almost forgot to give you these."  He opened the box to reveal honeyed dates.  "I remember how you craved these when you were with child and have brought you something to fill any need you have for a little bit of sweet."  He grinned as Legolas popped a date into his mouth and rolled his eyes back in pleasure.  "These are special because they are soaked in this," he said as he opened the flask and poured a thick golden fluid into a blown glass goblet that seemed to magically appear in his other hand.   

"What is it?"  Delicately sniffing the contents, Legolas took a small sip. It tasted like warm sunshine mixed with honey and spice as it rolled across his tongue.  He took a bigger sip and breathed in the fumes as they tickled his nose from the inside of his mouth.  

"It's a very special, very potent cordial from a small country on the other side of the world, or so I'm told.  It's made with the honey from a flower that blooms only during the dark of the moon and spices so costly that they are worth more than twice their weight in gold.  I understand only the royal family drinks it."  

"And let me guess, it's also guarded by dog headed men and is only obtainable at great peril to life and limb?  Possibly even a dragon or two?"  Legolas laughed as he took another drink.  

"Very likely, or perhaps something even deadlier."  Synan nodded, his expression completely serious.

 It was such a pleasant feeling to laugh.  Legolas tilted his head back and felt as though he could laugh all night.  He hadn't felt that way in months. "I'm not buying it from you, so you don't have to talk it up to me, Synan." 

"I'm hurt.  You sound as though I would say anything less than the truth."  The trader clutched his heart as if he had been mortally wounded and Legolas laughed again.   

He tasted the cordial again and finished the glass.  "This is wonderful, whatever it is.  I could drink it all night."  Synan's servant filled the glass again and Legolas held it up to toast the trader.  "A wonderful gift and I thank you for it.  It will help warm me through the cold nights." 

An arm wrapped around his waist from behind and Aragorn spoke.  "Synan, you old goat… Are you taking over my job?  Is it not my duty to warm my beautiful queen when the nights grow chilly?"

Legolas felt a prickle of annoyance climb up his spine.  Putting on a show was all well and good, but this was not to his liking.  "Luckily, I don't feel the cold."  The arm around him stiffened and then returned to its owner.

Synan gave forth a nervous laugh, stood and bowed.  "Majesties, I have just noticed the lateness of the hour.  I fear I must retire from your glorious presences as we depart before dawn."  He bowed again and looked up at the Elf for a brief moment before looking to the king.  "I remain your faithful servant. Call upon me if you have need." 

Giving the barest nod, Legolas raised his goblet to the trader.  "I wish you an easy and profitable journey, Synan.  My best to your wife and sons."  Aragorn nodded and waved before turning to someone else who wanted his attention. 

The trader bowed and was gone, leaving the scent of sandalwood and spices in his wake.  The lights in the hall seemed a little less bright and the mood a little less cheery. He leaned forward and selected a plump date from the box in front of him and delicately ate it, licking the sweet cordial off his fingers before turning back to Aragorn and the lord on his other side and listened a man with watery blue eyes and dull brown hair speak.  

"My son would be a fine match for your daughter, my liege.  He is a fine lad of four years this spring and my heir.   I am willing to foster your daughter at the age of two and have them married as soon as she comes of age.  Think of the alliance we would build with such a match, my lord."   

Legolas stiffened and leaned forward to respond, but Aragorn laid a heavy hand on his arm, quashing the outburst.  "Lord Byrum, you make an attractive offer, but you must remember that Luthiél is my only child.  I am not willing to be parted from her or make a marriage for her just yet.  She is still an infant." 

The man nodded and then looked sideways at Legolas.  "Yes, she is your only child now, but she will not always be.  Your wife is young and healthy and looks to be able to bear you many sons." Legolas stiffened more and was rewarded with a tighter grip on his arm.  The man dithered on unaware of how much danger he was in.  "I merely wish to consolidate my alliance with your family, and I can think of no better way than the union of our children." 

Aragorn noticed out of the corner of his eye how completely and utterly still Legolas was.  Not a muscle moved, not even a twitch of eyelash.  It came to his mind how familiar that stillness was, and how comforting it had been when they had faced untold peril together.  A smile traced his lips at the thought of the Elf turning that concentration and the focused outburst of violence that it foretold on the extremely dim lord before him.  The man yammered on, his words blending together as Aragorn cherished the memory of times and a comrade long gone.  "…and even your lady must agree with me, so rapt is she at the prospect." 

The words suddenly became clear in Aragorn's mind and he threw back his head and laughed.  "My lady is not so much rapt at the prospect of our daughter leaving us as much as the prospect of personally putting your head on a platter, Lord Byrum."

The man gasped and then glanced over to Legolas.  Unable to meet the bright, unblinking eyes, he turned back to the king.  "Surely you jest.  She has said not a word of protest over anything I've said.   She seems to be everything a proper woman should be, quiet and obedient.  You are blessed with someone so beautiful and gentle."  If he had been a smarter man, he might have seen his life passing in front of his eyes at that moment.  But he was not.

Aragorn leaned forward and smiled.  His tone was light, but his eyes were serious.  "I would not take the lady so lightly if I were you.  Just because she appears fair and lissome doesn't mean she's not capable of feeding you your own spleen.   Discount her at your own risk."   His face clouded as he listened to his own words.  "I suggest that we revisit this discussion in a few years, Byrum.   I will make no matches for Luthiél until she is much older."  

Byrum stammered and then bowed, beating a quick retreat from the great hall.  Legolas' bright eyes followed him until the man had left.  An eyebrow lifted as he cocked his head towards Aragorn.  A particularly fat date was devoured and then the question asked.  "His spleen?"

Aragorn shrugged.  "I was unrehearsed.  It was the best I could come up with on a moment's notice."

Legolas thought as he ate another date and then nodded.  "It was effective enough, I suppose.  I would have gone for one of the major organs like the heart or liver, though.  The spleen is so obscure."

"I just liked the way the word sounded.  Spleen.  Sp-l-een."  The king wrapped his tongue around the word and admired the way that Legolas could eat a date and laugh at the same time.  It was so easy to fall into the old banter.  Painfully easy.  "I would speak with you privately, Legolas.  May we retire?" 

Legolas nodded and made to stand up, swaying a little as he did.  The Elf blinked hard, trying to make the room stop spinning.  .  ::_Too_ much wine.  Too much of that honey stuff of Synans.  Too many of his near flammable dates.  I need to lie down.::__

Aragorn offered his arm and for once Legolas was glad to accept the aid.  They left the hall together, Aragorn keeping the light footed Elf from staggering the entire time.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Legolas had never been in Aragorn's room before.  The room was large, but sparsely furnished.  The chairs in front of the fireplace were rough, as if the king had hewn them from a block of wood to amuse himself one day.  The table was simple dark wood.  Legolas knew the only reason that the bed was made and clothing not heaped on the floor was because someone cleaned the room for him.

The man's bow and old sword hung on the wall, but there was not a speck of dust on them.  It was obvious that the man still cared for them all personally.  That spoke more to Legolas more than any other thing in the room.

Aragorn threw another log on the fire, and then turned to put more charcoal in the brazier on the far side of the room.  The room began to grow warm.

Legolas eyed the door to his own chamber as he leaned against the wall.  The stone was cold through the fabric of his gown and helped to keep him alert.  The room threatened to start spinning again at any moment, and he wanted to avoid that at all costs.  

"Will you sit?"  Aragorn gestured towards one of the heavy chairs.  

Brow furrowed in concentration, Legolas shook his head.   To his eyes, the walk to the chair would take at least a day or so.  "I'll stand."

The king sighed and came to lean on the wall next to the Elf.  Together they watched the fire.  A deep warmth filled Legolas' stomach slowly spreading through his chest and limbs.  ::_I'm__ never going to touch those dates again. Never.::  The silence was so long and companionable that when Aragorn finally spoke, Legolas started, as if from a light slumber._

"I need to say something to you that I should have said long, long ago.  I ask that you listen to all I would say before you answer me.  Can you agree to that?"  The man's eyes never left the fire.

"I will listen."  

A deep sigh came from the man's lips and Legolas watched the broad shoulders sag and deflate.  "I need to apologize for all I have done.  I know that I have before, but I realize now that I have wronged you in more ways that I realized."

The man licked his lips and went on.  "You hurt.  That much is plain.  I thought that if I encouraged you to accept what has happened and forget what you once were perhaps your pain would be lessened.  I am not a cruel man and I do not want someone that I love to be in pain."

Legolas raised his eyebrows but said nothing.   The heat spread up his neck and into his cheeks.  

"I was wrong.  I know it shouldn't matter to me what body you wear or what you look like to my eyes when I think of who you are. But it does.  My eyes tell me one thing and I act like a fool until my gut reminds me what an ass I am."  The man shook his head.  "I should have told you this from the beginning, but I will say it now.  You and I fit well together, even before this happened.  You were beautiful to my eyes before, even if not in the same way you are now.  You were dear to my heart even before this happened.   You were my swordmate and fighting partner even before this happened.   You were my trusted advisor even before this happened.  Nothing has changed except the way that you look and all that entails."  

There was a long pause.  "You were my best friend and I betrayed you.   I failed you.  You hurt because of me, and there is nothing I can do to change that.  All I can do is try to earn the forgiveness I will never deserve."  The man swallowed hard.  "I would have you stay not only for Luthiél's sake, but for my own.  I would never be able to gain absolution if you left."  

Still the man spoke on.  "We have always worked well together.  Is there a reason why we can not work together now?  I can think of no one better suited to help me bring this kingdom to the glory that it deserves than you.  I would be proud to have you stand by my side –no matter what your form— and have you as my equal partner.  Truth be told, you know more of running a kingdom than I do."  The man turned wearily and watched Legolas watch the fire.  "And perhaps someday you will forgive me and feel some form of affection for me again." 

Legolas pursed his lips and bowed his head. _::Why didn't you say this months ago?  Why couldn't you?  Why do you say it now, when I have already made up my mind to this place and you far behind.::  The room was warm and close now and the heat from his stomach spread to the top of his head, making the roots of his hair tingle. _

"What say you?" Aragorn turned back to the fire and waited.

There were so many things to say but they all died on Legolas' lips.  The room seemed almost too hot to endure.   Silence stretched out before him as he tried to bring his muddled thoughts into some form of order.   Of its own will his hand reached over and touched Aragorn on the shoulder.

Aragorn reached up and squeezed the hand.  Legolas watched with detached fascination as his hand turned and laced fingers with the man's hand.  Pale fingers wove with dark, their contrast even stronger in the firelight. 

The man leaned his head onto their joined hands and Legolas felt whiskers prickle the back of sensitive fingers.  He thought to pull his hand away, but it stayed where it was as if it had decided on it's own to remain.  

It was with growing anxiety that he watched his other hand rise up and brush the man's other cheek gently and then caress down the strong neck to the broad shoulder and rest there.   Alarmed, he tried to pull his hands back, but they would not obey him.  The remained stubbornly where they were, disobeying his commands.  The warmth that had spread through his entire body before suddenly intensified, striking like a coiled snake and Legolas realized his greatest fear had come to pass.  She had gained control.  

He railed inside as he watched his hand travel back up Aragorn's neck, fingers trailing through dark hair.  Every sensation was still his to feel, from the rough stubble on his fingertips to the soft hair tickling the webs of his fingers.   He could feel her glee running through him as she watched his hands do her bidding.

Gray eyes met his with surprise.  Gently, Aragorn caught the hand that traced his cheek and brought it to his lips, placing a tender kiss on the sensitive palm.  His eyes never wavered from Legolas'.

Legolas' body stepped forward and kissed the man wantonly, lips meeting lips and then opening to taste further.   Aragorn froze, his hands held out and above the Elf, afraid to respond.  Finally he pulled back and looked down into the eyes that should have been bright blue but were now smoky violet.   "Do you want this?"  He was amazed at how hoarse his voice was.  "Tell me if you want this.  I swear if you tell me no, I will not touch you.  I would never hurt you, but you must tell me if you want this."

::_No__!::, Legolas screamed inside. ::_I___ do not want this.  Don't listen to her.::  He could not speak, she would not allow him.  He felt her trying to respond and fought her for control of his voice.  Neither could speak to answer.  Instead he felt her move his lips up into a sweet smile and his eyes into a knowing look as she pulled the man back into the kiss.  _

Aragorn tasted of pipeweed and fine wine, Legolas thought.   He tasted of strength and vitality.  He tasted male.   Inside, Legolas willed himself to bite the tongue that was invading his mouth, but all his mouth would do was welcome the trespasser and greet it with vigor. 

The cold wall hit Legolas' back as he was turned, the man now leaning against him and deepening the kiss even more.   Strong hands explored his back, gripped his buttock, fondled his side.  The mouth moved away from his lips, leaving the Elf winded and gasping.   Hot kisses rained themselves on his cheeks and moved down to nuzzle the juncture of his shoulder and neck.  The lips moved back up and a tongue toyed with the earring still in his lobe, and then the mouth moved up to suck on the side and tip of his ear.  Tingles of pleasure shot through his entire body, unwelcome in their intensity.

A hoarse voice whispered in his ear, "Do you really want this?"  

Legolas felt a moment of joy when he saw his hand rise up as if to push the man away.  Perhaps he had regained control?   Then the hand moved down to Aragorn's belt, deftly undoing it and causing it to fall to the floor with a clunk.  The hand then was joined by its mate, both of them working to pull the tunics up and off the man's body.  

Aragorn stepped back and pulled the tunics off, tossing them into the corner of the room.  His chest was broad and muscled, covered with a dark pelt.   Legolas watched his hands stroke the torso, pale fingers tracing muscles and then running through the hair, causing the man to shiver in pleasure.   _::No!:: _He raged inside at Aragorn.  _::Can you not see that this is not me?  Can you not tell that I do not want this?::_  

Dark hands caught his and held them still against the furry chest.  "Are you sure that you want this?  I promise you nothing but pleasure in my arms, but I will not force you."   

Legolas felt her pull his mouth into a smile again as she guided the man's hands to the hidden bodice laces, and pressed his open hands against the breasts that swelled beneath.    Aragorn's hands shook as his fingers worked the laces, pulling them out of their holes with small pops, loosening the blue dress until it fell loose around the Elf's shoulders.  Legolas shivered, but not from cold even though he was clad now in the thinnest of chemises.  _::No.  Please hear me. This is not __me._::_. _

Reverently, Aragorn pushed the dress down the thin arms and watched as it fell and pooled around the small feet.  His hands strayed across the firm breasts and then around the small waist.   There was no effort involved in picking up the small body or carrying it gently across the room to lay the shining creature in his arms on the bed.   "Do you really want this?  I keep asking but you never answer."  

The woman inside Legolas made him smile again and pull Aragorn down for another kiss.  The man's tongue worked against the inside of the Elf's mouth and then worked down the chin and neck again.  This time the man pulled the neck of the chemise down and laved the breasts he found there with his tongue.  Legolas gasped as a hot mouth found a nipple and began to suck and tease it.   The feeling was beyond erotic as the man nursed with almost as much vigor as Luthiél.   _::GET OFF!!  GET OFF!!:: _Legolas tried to scream, but the woman would only allow a small groan.  

"So sweet."  Aragorn's voice was even hoarser as he spoke.  "I have no doubt why Luthiél would have none but you.  You taste of sunshine and honey and all things good in the world."  He lifted the hem of the chemise and worked it up over slender hips, exposing the flat abdomen.  "I would never think that you had borne a child to look at you.  You are so beautiful to behold, it hurts."   He lowered his mouth and began to kiss his way down the stomach, nipping and teasing the flesh into goose pimples as he went.  

As he reached the thighs, he raised himself to look into the darkened eyes of the Elf.  "Are you sure?"  

_::No!  Do not touch me.  I'll kill you with my bare hands if I have to.  No!_::  Legolas screamed inside, but the woman simply nodded her head and smiled again.  The man smiled back and lowered his mouth and began to kiss and nuzzle the sensitive area.  

Each contact shot pleasure through his body and Legolas wanted to weep from the shame but the woman arched his back and made him groan instead.   He felt her use his hands to grasp the hair on the back of Aragorn's head and urge the man to further efforts.   

Legolas could feel her gloating inside of him, ecstatic in her victory as she pulled the man up and helped him remove his leggings.  He could feel her joy increasing as she positioned the man between his thighs and wrapped his legs around the strong hips.  And when he felt Aragorn's hard penis pressing into him, he despaired.   She raised his chin and arched his back as he wailed his defeat inside.

"You see" Aragorn rasped into his ear, "Surrender is not always such a bad thing.  Sometimes there is much to be said about giving up the hopeless fight."   He looked down into the smoky eyes that suddenly cleared to bright blue. 

Every muscle in Legolas' body went stiff with rage.  "I. Do. Not. Surrender."  He gritted the words out from between clenched teeth and discovered he could move his body as he chose again.  He arched his back and pushed as hard as he could.  "GET OFF ME!"

Aragorn rolled off and covered himself with a cushion from the head of the bed.  "What?  What is it?  What do you want?  Would you rather if I bent you over like a man?  Would you rather if you were on top?  What will it take?"

Shivering, Legolas moved off the bed and stood in the center of the room.  "I do not want this."

"What?  I asked you.  I kept asking you and you said nothing.  If you didn't want this, why did you do what you did?"  

"It wasn't me."  Legolas shook his head.   "You wouldn't understand, but it wasn't me."

"You gave yourself to me, Legolas."  The man's voice was eerily calm.  "Stop this nonsense and come back to bed.  I promise I won't hurt you."

Legolas went cold with fury.  "I gave myself to you?  You have taken everything from me, everything that I am.  Everything that you did not take, I gave up to you so that I could help you.  I have nothing left to give."  He heard his voice get shrill.  "What else can I give that you haven't already taken?"

Time stood still and finally Aragorn spoke.  "A son." 

The anger in Legolas' veins evaporated and fear ran in to take its place.   He felt as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs and replaced with ice as he struggled to breathe.   His feet felt as though they had been nailed to the floor and then suddenly released as he ran to the door to his rooms at top speed.  

The door slammed behind him with a not nearly solid enough thump, and he shot the bolt with hands that would not stop shaking.   The taste of panic filled his mouth and his thoughts centered on one thing and one thing only.  _::Time to go.  Time to go now.  Must leave now.  I am the one I can't trust, not him.::_

Aragorn leaned back in the bed and beat his head slowly on the wall.  With a disgusted sigh, he rolled off the bed and picked up his leggings.  As he was pulling them on, a soft knock came from the door.  

Disa waited there in the hallway, her dark hair falling across her face.  She took in the sight of him half dressed and shook her head.   "You are a fool.  I am dead, and you are a fool.  She will run, and she will take the baby.  You are a fool, and I am as good as dead." 

  __


	20. Chapter 20

Okay, so it's been… checks calendar TWO YEARS since I've updated. TWO YEARS? Has it been that long? And I still get E-mail about this story, at least one or two a month. So here you go. Persistence and bugging the author pays off. That and severe writer's block that keeps me from working on my novel. So here I am, trying to lure my muse back from her trip to Tijuana with fanfic. Gods help me.

Of course it also helped that Hurricane Dennis knocked out my power for a while today and all I could do is work on the laptop and finish this.

This story has one chapter left to finish the tale, and I can say without a doubt that it won't take TWO FRIGGING YEARS to finish it. I mean, I might as well… It's so close to being done…..

Jeez. I hope this doesn't suck too, too badly after TWO YEARS of not writing in this world….

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The torchlight gave a warm glow to the stone walls, but it was false warmth. Flecks of mica embedded in the granite sparkled but the stone still radiated a biting cold and Legolas' breath steamed in front of him as he ran.

His feet made no sound but his heart beat in his ears so loudly he was sure it could be heard in the city below. :_Slow down.: _He forced his steps into a walk, although he still hurried. _:Someone will take notice if you run, _he scolded himself.

He paused by a stairwell and listened, straining to hear if anyone was coming to discover him huddled there. Silence met his ears and he moved on after an additional moment of waiting.

He forced his steps even slower, trying by force of will to make his heart stop hammering and his breath stop coming in panicked gasps. His hands pulled absently at the fur collar of the heavy night robe he'd donned. There was no way he could have laced himself back into the dress that he'd worn tonight, even if he'd been brave enough to go back into Aragorn's rooms to retrieve it. There was no time to waste in finding other clothing. _:I cannot trust myself anymore. I think I could trust him, but I cannot trust myself around him.:_

The halls were fortuitously empty. It appeared that everyone was in the great hall, enjoying the food and entertainments that had been so lavishly prepared for tonight. The winter had been hard and any diversion that would take the people's minds away from the dark and cold was enjoyed to its fullest.

He paused at another hallway and listened again. _:I've been lucky. It sounds as though no one is about tonight.: _He paused and then turned down the hall that led to the nursery. _:Of course, I've not had great amounts of good luck in the past year. Perhaps I am due for some, but I do not wish to hang my fate on that faint hope.:_

The nursery door was heavy oak, but swung open soundlessly on well-oiled brass hinges. Squeaky hinges woke up sleeping babies, an unhappy circumstance that was prevented at all costs.

The front room was a play room; countless toys perched on shelves to spoil the royal brood that was supposedly to come. Dolls waited on the shelves for Luthiél to be old enough to play with them, their glass eyes glinting coldly in the candlelight that shone from the bedroom. It seemed they knew that he was coming to take their princess from them. Legolas shuddered and turned from the dolls and their empty gazes.

He crossed the room and entered the small room where a dull eyed woman drowsed in a chair next to the cradle. There slept Luthiél, her golden curls gleaming in the dim light. She slept on her stomach; her arms spread wide and small face pressed to one side with sweet lips parted as she dreamed.

Legolas stood soundlessly in the door for a long moment, hovering on the edge of choice. It was not too late. He could still turn back now and pretend nothing had happened and wait for a more opportune time. The baby was still young; it was too cold for her to travel. Surely he could wait a little longer.

He raised a hand to his lips, touching them lightly. They were still raw from stubble laden kisses. He could not wait. He would not wait. He could not trust himself. His sense of self would not survive another night like tonight. His glance fell back to the baby again. :_And if I wait too long, she may be bundled off in some arranged marriage before she can even walk: _It wasn't true but the lie made another small justification and tilted the balance overwhelmingly towards flight.

Moving forward, he lightly touched the baby's hair and forced himself to smile at the woman. He had no memory of her name at this moment. The need to be gone from this place was chasing all other things from his mind.

The woman blinked as if rousing herself from a dream, and then stood awkwardly and half bowed. "My lady" she whispered, "I thought you'd be down in the hall with the others tonight."

"I decided to retire early, and wanted to bring her in to sleep with me." He forced his lips into a gentle smile that he hoped showed nothing of his nerves. _:There is nothing unusual with this. I've been having her sleep with me for weeks now for just this reason. She has no reason to suspect.: _

The woman bowed again. "Of course, Lady. I just thought it strange that you didn't send one of your maids for her, is all."

He could feel a worried frown ghost his lips before he forced them back up into a stiff smile. "They're all still down in the hall, and I would hate to ruin their fun for such a small thing." He wrapped a blanket around the small, limp body and gently picked up the child. "I can carry her back easily enough."

Luthiél grumbled in her sleep and then wriggled into her mother's arms, falling back into deep slumber.

The woman bowed and then looked up, a gleam in her eye. "If you've no other use for me then…."

Legolas nodded. "Of course. Go down and enjoy yourself. The night is still young." A feeling of panic threatened to overwhelm him as she hesitated, torn between duty and temptation. He choked it down and sweetened the deal. "I think that the dancing will be starting soon. If you hurry…"

The woman smiled, her homely features transformed. Then she skipped lightly out the door after a sketchy curtsey. Legolas stood and unconsciously rocked the bundle in his arms, swaying back and forth as he waited long enough for the woman to clear the hallway. :_Good. It'll be hours before she comes back to be questioned:_

He followed her path, feeling the dolls glower at him as he passed.

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He was amazed he reached his room unseen and sighed with deep relief as he shot the bolt securely on the inner door. Placing the sleeping baby gently on the carpet in front of the hearth, he started gathering the things he needed.

At a soft noise from Aragorn's room he frantically looked up, fearing the man was there to witness his betrayal. His gaze then fell on the place where the mirror had been and cold fear filled his heart. _:Is she strong enough to stop me, I wonder? Would she:_

He wrenched his attention back to the small fur sleeping gown and booties he held. He fingered the fur as he prayed it would be warm enough. Even though the cold was not as intense as in deepest winter, Luthiél was still so very young.

Shaking his head, he unwrapped the other things he had collected and laid them next to the sleeping baby.

It was a matter of seconds to dress in old leggings and a tunic. It was a few moments more to put everything along with a few changes of clothes for himself and Luthiél into a pack and then secure his knives on top. He then turned to the sleeping baby.

She mumbled sleepily as he changed her clout and gently dressed her in the fur gown. The booties and a warm hat followed.

He gathered her up into a sling he'd looped over his left shoulder, holding her tightly against his heart. She squirmed for a moment but calmed quickly. He then shrugged into a heavy wool cloak not only to keep Luthiél warm but to hide her from view.

With one arm, he picked up the pack and swung up into the window. It was a long drop into the garden below, but one he could easily make even with the precious burden he bore.

He left no footprints in the snow as he ran to the stables.

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Aragorn looked at the slip of a girl in his doorway and scowled. "I'm really not in the mood for games, Disa."

The girl pushed past him and walked into his room with an offended sniff. "Not in the mood for games? I'm sure that you were a few minutes ago. The smell of the game you were playing lingers in the air. The stench of your 'game' offends my senses, my lord."

The king rolled his eyes. "You shouldn't be in here, girl." He tried to make it a menacing growl but it came out more as a frustrated whine. It had been a long night. He didn't need this.

"No, I shouldn't. There is no chaperone and no one here to make sure you don't impugn my honor, is there?" The girl's lip curled as she looked around the room. After several moments of consideration, she wiped the seat of the chair nearest the fire with her sleeve and sat gingerly on the edge. "But here I am. And here you are. And here we are, together. What ever shall my father say, my lord king?"

Aragorn sighed. "He would say nothing. I am the king, after all. You are here on my pleasure." He stressed the last word as he leaned against the far wall.

Disa examined the arm of the chair and diffidently wiped it off with the hem of her skirt before putting her elbow on it and resting her chin on her hand. She regarded Aragorn with a look that spoke of being so much older than her years. "You're king by the will of the people. If the people turn on you, then king you'll no longer be. I think you should remember that, MY LORD."

"Is there a purpose to this, or are you merely here to make me more miserable than I already am?"

"If I were here to make you more miserable, I'd be forcing you into an honorable marriage." Disa leaned forward and warmed her hands by the fire. "It's been a horribly cold winter, hasn't it? Think you the spring will come soon?"

Aragorn sighed and threw himself into the chair across from her. "The winter has been cold, yes. The spring will come, yes. The point to this conversation had better come before then."

Disa snorted. "I could almost learn to like you. Almost." She turned back to the king and began to speak.

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Arod snorted as he made his way to the south gate. The horse's breath rose into a cloud of steam and Legolas fought down an irrational fear that it would rise as a beacon to show Aragorn where he was. Hooves clopped sharply against the cobblestones, but there was enough noise from the ongoing celebrations that they were drowned out.

Legolas hunched into the depths of the cloak, hiding his face as they passed another crowded inn. It was excruciatingly slow progress through all the levels of the city, but it was the only way to the smallest and least used gate.

His shoulders ached with both his tension and Luthiél's weight by the time the postern loomed into sight. All the main gates were barred at sunset, but all he needed was this small side gate to slip out into the night. Once he was free of the city, he could give Arod his head and make his way to the Havens.

Free of the city. Free. He rolled the word around in his mind, savoring the feel and the flavor of it. It was smooth and seductive, but bitter at the same time. No matter. Once he was free, Aragorn could never catch him. But he had to make it out of the city first.

He gave a nervous look over his shoulder\at that thought. He'd intended to drug Aragorn's wine the night he ran, but things had moved too quickly. He'd panicked. He'd discarded all his carefully wrought plans and simply ran as fast as he could. Not exactly behavior befitting an Elven prince, but he didn't care at this point. The head start on which he would have relied did not exist. Now it was simply up to how long it would take the man to overcome his anger and guilt at what had gone so horribly wrong tonight and discover the Elf missing. There would be a few more minutes while the palace was searched and then they would find Luthiél gone.

Once that was discovered, the alarm would be raised and the race to stop him would be on.

Luthiél stirred against his chest and he held her tighter as they approached the guardhouse.

"Who passes?" The man was old, too old to be standing watch at any gate, even one as small as this one. Legolas frowned at the thought of the city not being properly protected, and then shook his head. _:It's not like the Orcs are out there trying to knock down the gates this time. Defend a city once and I feel like I own the place.:_

His lips curved into a smile at the thought, but it disappeared at the second challenge. "Who passes? Speak!"

"I do." He pulled the hood across his face and looked down at the old man from its dark depths.

"And who are you, Lady?" The man shuffled closer to Arod to peer up at the cloaked and hooded figure.

Legolas studied the man. He was thin and looked to be hobbled with the swollen joint disease that struck humans as they aged. The guard's movements were slow and painful as he finally reached the horse and patted Arod on the shoulder. There was a flare of anger in the Elf's heart that someone so aged and infirm would be left to guard the gate to his city.

He took a deep breath. The cold air smothered the flame in his chest. Not his city. Never his city, and certainly not any more if it had ever been. "It doesn't matter who I am. Just open the door and let me pass."

The man patted Arod's shoulder and spoke, "I'm sorry, Lady, but I can't. It's much too dangerous for the likes of you out there. Come back in the morning with some Men-at-Arms to protect you."

Biting down his irritation, Legolas spoke again. "I can take care of myself. I simply require the gate to open in front of me and close behind me. I am no threat to the city; I am leaving and will never return." He took a shuddering breath. "Let me go free, old man. Please."

Shaking his head, the old man sighed. "I'm sorry, my Lady. I cannot open the gate. I have no orders." He turned and made to hobble back to his post.

"Wait…"

The guard stopped and turned back. "Lady?"

"A few hours ago, maybe less, did you let Synan and his band of traders out?" The words rushed out in a desperate gasp.

There was a long silence and then the man nodded and spoke. "Yes. They left the city through this gate but a candle mark ago. They said they camped off the south road a few miles down, Lady."

"I am with them. Here is my safe conduct." Legolas pulled an emerald ring off of his finger and held it before the old man's eyes.

"That", he said dryly, "looks more like a ring to me, Lady."

"To some it might look like a ring. To another it might look like a year's pay." He paused and then spoke again through dry and parched lips. "To me it looks like my safe conduct to the Trader's camp." He turned the ring so it sparkled in the torchlight. This would be enough that the man would never have to pull guard duty on midwinter night again. He'd never have to do guard duty again, in fact. He could just stay home with his wife and enjoy the benefits of living this long, at least until the cold darkness that all mortals faced took him. Legolas turned away from such thoughts and focused on the man. "Don't you agree?"

There was a long silence before the old man finally reached up and took it from the Elf's fingers. "I must have been mistaken. My pardon, Lady. Here's the king's seal and all. My eyes, they're not what they used to be."

Legolas' shoulders sagged in relief. "I forgive you. None of us are what we used to be." He smirked bitterly at that statement and then pulled a second ring off and held it before the man. This time red fire bloomed in the firelight. "You never saw me. I was not here. Do you understand?"

"Saw who? The whole city is either passed out drunk or taking comfort at the wrong person's hearth. No one passed here tonight except the traders and their ilk." The guard took the second ring and then shuffled painfully to wheel that would raise the bar on the gate.

As he slowly turned the wheel, he spoke again, as if to himself. "I know you're not here, but if you were I'd tell you to be careful. There's still some Orcs and Eastern men wandering around that the king hasn't managed to hunt down and kill yet. Filthy creatures, Orcs. Be wary and stay on the road, Lady. The road is still safe. Mostly."

Nodding in his hood, Legolas nudged Arod through the gate and disappeared into the night without another word. The old man closed the gate behind the dark figure and hobbled back to his fire where he dreamed of what he would do with his new-found wealth.

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"What would you give to know what I know?" Disa pushed a wisp of hair out of her face and looked at the king through slitted eyelids.

"What would you want, little Disa?" Aragorn stressed the 'little'. The girl was acting entirely too much like a courtier for his comfort.

"I want to be free. I want to be able to live my own life free of my father, of my brothers, of any man. I want to be able to choose for myself what is good and right for me." She laughed bitterly. "I've been around your lady too long, I fear. She's made me unfit for proper society and made me dream of living a life on my own."

Aragorn watched the fire, and then leaned forward to grab the poker and move a log into a better position. The fire flared up and painted his face in shades of orange and red. "I wouldn't say that. I'd say you've grown into a young woman who wants to direct her own life. There's nothing wrong with that." He put the poker back in its place and sighed sadly. "Arwen was much the same, even if she was much older than you."

There was silence from the girl for a long time. "You do know you're a fool, don't you?"

"How so?"

"I mean that you're a fool." Disa pushed more wisps of hair out of her face with an unconscious gesture of impatience. "You know as well as I that the Lady is not going to be what you want her to be. You know this but you still hold some perverse hope in your heart that if you keep pushing her she will turn to you for comfort and healing."

With an uncomfortable shift Aragorn found a stain on the hem of his tunic that caught his attention. Was that gravy? Or maybe butter? Who could tell at this stage of the game? "I only want what is best for the kingdom. Gondor demands the best."

"Gondor demands nothing of the sort. Gondor is your kingdom. You, yourself, have demanded these things in the name of Gondor. Just because you want them doesn't mean that the kingdom wants them." She paused and studied the fire, almost as if gathering courage. "What will you give me for what I know?"

There was a long pause. "I would give you your freedom. Not only from your father, but also from any man who would try to control you."

"That is what I wanted. Nothing more, nothing less." Disa sighed and began to speak.

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It was dark. The moon was the barest fingernail paring in the sky and it barely illuminated the road, even to Elven eyes.

Legolas urged Arod to greater speed, trusting his eyes to find the way for the horse. Arod was used to this, having done this through the years and he ran as if the very legions of Sauron were behind him.

The road unfolded under Arod's hooves and Luthiél slumbered on, soothed by the beat of her mother's heart.

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"She will run and she will take Luthiél. She feels she has no other choice in the matter."

"I don't believe you. She swore to me that she would stay and make a peace in order for Luthiél to be happy." Aragorn glanced towards the door to his queen's chamber. It had been silent behind that door for entirely too long.

Disa shook her head. "Why do you think the lady incapable of deception? Even if she wasn't able to when she arrived, you have lied to her so many times that she surely has learned the art of deceit at your knee."

Aragorn suppressed the urge to beat the slip of a girl. "Legolas cannot lie to me. She is incapable of it." He stood and walked to the door and pulled the bolt to. "She will tell you herself. You'll see."

The door creaked open to an empty room and Disa sat by the fire, a small, sad smile on her lips.

"Indeed, my lord. I see very well. I would check the nursery if I were you." She rubbed her hands over the flames and silently mourned the loss of her innocence. If only Legolas had taken her with him….

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The road narrowed and led into trees, weaving in and out of the edge of a forest that stretched beyond sight.

At first Legolas was gladdened to hear the song of the trees, no matter how faint and sluggish from winter's grip it was. Arod slowed as the Elf leaned over and brushed his fingertips against the rough bark of the first tree, and then the second. Words of greeting were whispered and Legolas almost wept for the joy of their welcome.

Arod dropped to a walk and then stopped, using the opportunity to catch his breath from his headlong run. His Elf had asked and he would give unto the ends of his strength, but it was certainly nice that he didn't have to. The horse's nostrils flared as he sucked in the freezing air, his sides heaving.

Suddenly the horse froze, every muscle stiff and alert. He grunted softly to his Elf but Legolas had already sensed something as well. Reaching stealthily to the pack strapped behind him, Legolas loosened first one knife and then the other in their scabbards. His bow would be of no use with Luthiél slung across his chest, but if he had to fight he was far from defenseless.

The trees whispered a weak warning and Legolas thanked them as he wrapped his left arm around the sleeping baby and urged Arod to run. The horse sprang forward, obviously agreeing that was the best course of action.

Hooves clattered on the road, the cold making every impact ring like a bell to the Elf's ears. He could see the edge of the trees ahead, where the road came out into a clearing. He leaned closer to Arod's neck and whispered that there was safety ahead, he could see it.

Bent down as he was he missed the dark shadow perched on a low-hanging branch until it had dropped to land lightly behind him on Arod's rump.

The horse screamed in rage and reared to rid himself of the unexpected passenger. Legolas held on with his thighs and his right hand wrapped in Arod's mane. The dark shadow resolved itself into a man, and the man wrapped his arms around the Elf to stay on. Arod landed back on all fours and began to dance furiously, trying to scrape the intruder off on a nearby tree. Legolas held Luthiél even tighter with his left arm and elbowed the man in the face with his right.

There was a grunt of pain and a satisfying crunch as the man lost his grip and fell off. Arod made sure to trample him on the way back to the road.

More shapes came out of the underbrush by the side of the road, far too many of them. Bandits. Legolas wrinkled his nose and pulled his knife with his right hand. Arod charged the men and pulled up short when one of them brandished a spear. Legolas urged the horse to wheel with a subtle pressure on Arod's barrel. With one slash he cut through the wooden haft of the spear and with a return stroke sliced the man's throat.

The shadow crumpled and fell with a gurgling noise, and was replaced by three others. This time a spear was thrust into Legolas' face. Arod danced back as rough hands grasped at the heavy wool cloak, trying to pull the Elf from the horse. Legolas kicked out and felt bones break under the heel of his boot. One of the dark shapes fell with a cry of pain.

Another slash of his long knife sheared through flesh and bone, leaving another bandit without hands. The scent of blood began to fill the air with a bitter iron smell.

The bandits fell back, still blocking the way. It seemed as though they were considering if their prey would be worth the fight. Arod feigned a charge at them, but they stood their ground. Once again they grabbed and pulled at the cloak, and this time would not let go. Legolas let them have the garment this time, thinking that he could fight better without it.

He knew within seconds that had been a mistake.

There was a pause as what little light there was illuminated his hair and skin, making him glow like the face of the moon. There was an awed silence from the men on the ground, and then a deep laugh. One man stepped forward and rubbed his bearded chin in a calculating manner. "Now there's a pretty prize worth fighting for! Think of the ransom she'll bring us. What say you, men?"

The bandits roared agreement. Arod screamed defiance back at them while Legolas felt cold fear lace its icy fingers over his heart.

The leader moved to grab Arod's halter but jumped back when the horse made to bite him. The man shook his head and laughed as he waved his men to surround the Elf.

Perhaps it was the sound of the man's laugh, or perhaps that Legolas' heart started beating so rapidly but at that moment Luthiél woke and began to fret.

The laughter died as quickly as it had started. The leader stepped forward and smiled at the Elf. "Now we know why you fight so, but you can't win. Throw your weapon down." He paused and looked at Legolas appraisingly. "Come down here and I'll be sure no one hurts the babe." He continued on, not noticing that Legolas had gone utterly still. "If you're good, I'll be sure that no one besides me touches you, either." He ignored the sounds of protest behind him.

Legolas did nothing but raise an eyebrow. The man was a bear, massive and hairy. The stench of him rolled off his body in waves, making the Elf breathe through his mouth as to not gag. "I did not just escape a man a thousand times your better to be bound again. If you lay one finger upon me, you will pull back a bloody stump."

The mountain of a man smiled and saluted. "So be it, Lady. Can't say as I mind. Always did like my women feisty." With a speed that belied his mass, he leapt forward.

Instead of attacking Legolas, he slashed at Arod's forelegs. The horse screamed in pain and stumbled. "No!" Legolas lashed out with his knife but the man danced back, staying on the Elf's left side. Arod struggled to stay up, but screamed again as another attack, this time on his back legs, scored.

Arod tried to rear up to protect the precious cargo he bore, but his back leg buckled and he fell. Legolas kicked free and rolled, remembering at the last minute to bring his hand up to protect the wailing baby at his chest.

He landed awkwardly and felt rather than heard the snap of bone in his left arm.

Breathing through the pain, he rolled back up to his feet and raised his long knife before him with his right hand. He tried to hold on to Luthiél with his left, but the arm would not work.

The smell of the man hit him first, and then the figure loomed over him out of the dark. The bandit leader was so much bigger on foot than from the lofty perspective of horseback. Legolas looked wildly about for some way of escape, but he was surrounded. "Well, now. Not so high and mighty any more, are we?" Legolas had heard that tone of voice before, thick with humor and a shading of lust. The creature had used it often when Davyn had reigned in Gondor.

Legolas backed away from the man, holding the long knife before him. Luthiél's cries got louder as she sensed her mother's fear. "Everything I have is in the saddlebags. Take them and let us go."

The man danced forward, his sword gleaming in the dim moonlight. "You're not in the position to be making demands, Lady." Legolas could make out a wolfish grin under his heavy beard. "Besides, I suspect you're the true prize here. What would the king pay to get his Elf queen and daughter back?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Legolas found the way to the woods blocked by more of the bandits. He turned back and raised his knife higher. "You may take us eventually, but I will make the cost dear. Are you prepared to pay such a price?"

The man saluted with his blade. "I am. Are you?" He gestured with his free hand at Luthiél. "One stray blow will kill the babe. You dare not lay her down to fight, and you have no place to run." He leered at the Elf again. "I offer you again to lay down your weapon. I won't let anything happen to the babe if you behave yourself."

Legolas shuddered as he considered all the definitions of 'behave yourself". But the man was right. Luthiél was vulnerable, and he would not be able to protect her. The tip of his knife wavered and slowly dropped inch by slow inch until it pointed to the ground.

"That's better." The man lumbered over, his eyes glinting in the dark as he surveyed his hard-won prize. "You'll look so lovely spread out on my furs tonight. I wonder if you glow like that all over." He raised a hand to touch a golden lock of hair.

Out of the darkness came a buzzing sound that Legolas knew well. He leaned back as an arrow with black and silver fletchings buried itself in the man's hand mere inches away from the Elf's face.

The bandit stared at his hand, mouth working yet making no sound. The silence stretched seconds into eternity as the bandits stared at their leader.

The big man reached forward again, not seeming to realize that they were under attack. Legolas stepped backwards, raised his knife and slashed. There was a dull thud that echoed in the stunned silence as the man's hand hit the leaf covered ground.

This time the bandit leader realized he was supposed to scream, and did so. His roar of pain was so loud it drowned out the sound of hoof beats.

Horses crashed out of the woods, their riders armored and blazoned with the white tree on their surcoats. A gurgling cry from behind heralded the death of one bandit. A crunch of armor and bone, another. Chaos erupting around him, Legolas ducked and ran, clutching a frantically sobbing Luthiél against his chest with his good hand.

Man-shaped shadows screamed and bled around him as he ran, keeping his eyes on the tree line. _:Just a little further. Once I'm in the trees, no human can track me.: _

A horse and rider suddenly loomed before him, blocking his way. "No, you don't", Aragorn said as he stowed his bow. His voice was muffled by his helm, but Legolas heard his anger all too well.

The Elf tried to dive sideways and under the horse, but the man was too fast. He leaned over in the saddle, grabbed Legolas as if he were a sack of grain and deposited him gracelessly in front of the saddle. "Is Luthiél hurt? If they touched one hair on her head…"

Eyes closed so tightly he saw red against his eyelids, Legolas gasped in pain. His arm throbbed, and being grabbed and thrown as he had been made things even worse. He took a deep breath and clenched his teeth against the darkness that lingered at the edge of his vision. "She's fine. I would die before I would let any harm come to her."

"You nearly did." Aragorn's voice was rough with emotion. There was a pause as he took note of the limp arm. "You're hurt."

"I'll heal."

"So you will." Aragorn's voice went flat. "But we'll take care of that directly."

Luthiél sobbed against Legolas' chest. The Elf reached down with his right arm, allowing Aragorn's grip around his waist to hold him steady. He crooned to the baby, swaying back and forth as best he could from his precarious position.

Aragorn's arm came around Legolas' left side, carefully avoiding the broken limb. Hands that were so large but could be so gentle stroked the baby in her sling. "Such a brave girl," the man whispered to his daughter. "Ada's brave, brave girl."

Luthiél stopped fretting and cooed at her father. After another wriggle to settle herself, she yawned and fell back asleep, exhausted from her screaming.

Hoofbeats approached from their left. Legolas looked up to see a Captain ride up and salute. "Majesty, we've killed or captured them all." There was a pause. "We have their leader alive as you ordered."

"Good." Aragorn guided his mount over to where a group of men restrained the bleeding, swearing mountain of a man. Losing his hand had done nothing to slow him down. The soldiers kicked him to his knees at the king's approach.

"So", Aragorn spoke slowly, in measured tones. "You thought that you would force yourself upon my queen? That you would have your way with my wife and then ransom her back to me?" He stroked the golden head in front of him as he spoke.

Legolas stiffened but said nothing.

The bandit laughed, spitting blood from a broken tooth at the hooves of Aragorn's mount. "Why not? You don't seem to be able to keep her home on the cold winter nights."

One of the men holding him buried his fist into the bandit's gut. The laughter turned into a gasping cough of pain.

"Indeed?" Aragorn turned to the Captain. "Make him an example of what would happen to those who would dare touch my queen or harm my daughter. Leave what's left of him up as a warning to others when you're done."

The soldiers smiled grimly as their Captain saluted and then gestured to them. Aragorn turned and rode south towards the fires of a distant camp as screams echoed off the trees behind them. Legolas tried to turn and look back, but the strong arm around his waist held him still.

Synan's tent was as richly decorated and unique as the trader himself was. Richly woven carpets covered the floor. Hangings covered the walls, keeping in the heat from the ornate bronze braziers. The furniture was beautifully carved but light and easily folded away.

Lamps hung from the tent poles on light chains and cast a merry glow. The scented oil they burned made the tent smell of spices and sandalwood. A comfortable bed comprised of heaps of cushions rested in the far corner. Luthiél slept there now, curls gleaming in the lamplight.

Legolas sat gingerly on the edge of a stool made from what he had been assured was the hide of a giant bird that stood taller than most men. He'd started to scoff playfully when Synan told him such a bird never flew but ran as swiftly as a horse. Then Aragorn had returned to the tent with bandages and wood for a splint. The king had glowered at the trader; Synan had smiled, white smile gleaming in dark skin, and bowed his way out, giving them some amount of privacy.

Aragorn gently handled the Elf's arm, feeling around the swelling for the break. Legolas winced but made no sound.

After several minutes of silent searching, the man spoke. "You lied to me."

Legolas looked at the far wall, not wanting to meet the grey eyes. "Yes. I lied." He paused. "I won't say I'm sorry."

There was silence as the hands continued probing. They were unfailingly gentle, unlike the man's voice when he spoke next. "I trusted you. You swore to me that you would stay."

Legolas winced again, this time not at the pain. "You trusted me as I trusted you that day I came to Minas Tirith last year?"

Now it was Aragorn's turn to wince. "That was not my doing. You know this."

"I know this. But I also know that I am as trapped now as I was then, even though you swore it would not be so. You tell me: which lie is worse? Yours or mine?" Legolas snapped back, and then sucked in air through his teeth in a pained hiss as fingers touched the broken bone through his skin.

"Here it is," Aragorn said absently as he reached over to bring the splint next to his leg. He massaged the area gently as he spoke, his voice still harsh with emotion. "Of all the people around me, I knew you would never lie to me. That was one of life's truths. Now all I can think is that there is no one in the world I can trust. Not even you."

Legolas was at a loss for words. He closed his eyes and then spoke quietly, "I feel as though I cannot trust myself." He sighed and then chuckled sadly. "It seems we have a severe deficit of trust between the two of us."

Aragorn firmly grasped the small hand in his large one, pulled and twisted. The bone snapped back into place as the room spun behind Legolas' eyelids. The man began to splint the injured arm. "I would say we do. I cannot trust you, you refuse to trust me." He stopped to adjust the splint a fraction of an inch. "I thought tonight we had come to something more than an agreement to tolerate each other."

The Elf turned his head away and blushed. "That was not me." He whispered the words, knowing how they would sound.

"What are you talking about? I seem to remember quite clearly that you were there and that you were more than willing. Is my memory faulty?" Aragorn tied off the first roll of bandages and moved on to the second, his gentle hands still not giving any indication of his turmoil.

"It wasn't me." Legolas turned back to him and looked directly into the king's eyes. "When I say I am of two minds on something, it means that I am truly of two minds." He made a laughing sound that sounded as though it bordered on a sob. "When I broke the mirror, she got out. She's so strong. So strong, Aragorn. I'm can't fight her anymore. I'm too weak."

Aragorn's brow crinkled. "I'm not understanding, Legolas. Who is 'she'?"

Legolas hugged himself with his good arm, and pushed back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. "She's me, but not. She's the me that you want me to be." The Elf drifted off into thought and spoke distantly. "I wanted to put her back, but I broke the mirror too badly. She got free and now she wants to live. She wants me to give up and fade and let her be what you want." His eyes came back into focus as Aragorn tied off the second roll of bandages. "I can't explain it any other way. I don't think that even I understand who she is or why she is. She just simply is, and I can't fight her anymore."

There was a long silence as Aragorn finished wrapping up the arm.

"You think I'm insane." Legolas spoke softly to the man.

"No." Aragorn answered quickly. "Not insane. Confused and hurt, yes. Insane, no."

"Liar." The Elf said it flatly, with no fire.

"On other things between us, yes. On this, no." The man took a deep breath and let it go. "You are not insane. Stubborn, pigheaded, impossible to deal with certainly. But not insane." Aragorn still held the injured arm, minutely adjusting the wrappings and knots with gentle hands. He finally spoke again. "You were going to take my daughter from me. How could you do such a thing?"

"I couldn't leave her." Legolas glanced over at the sleeping child and a small sad smile touched his lips as a memory crossed his mind. "Father would never hear of it."

Aragorn gave a wry smile. "I can imagine your father would be in a right rage. I'll feel the heat of his wrath all the way from Valinor when he finds our about this." He sobered. "Is there nothing we can do solve this between us?"

The Elf looked down at his arm still held securely in the man's large hands. "I don't know." He shrugged and looked uncomfortable. "You still want me."

"Who wouldn't? I'm a man. I have a pulse. Look at you."

"Yes, look at me. Really look at me, Aragorn. Answer me this. Could you bear to be trapped like this for the rest of your days? To be lusted after by your best friend?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Even if I could accept the being female part, do you think I could endure being seen as nothing but a royal broodmare? Could I bear it until you died?"

Aragorn sighed. "I don't know, Legolas. I really don't know." The man looked down Legolas' arm still in his hands. He gently released it, fingers lingering a few seconds longer than needed as he watched the Elf pull it carefully to rest in his lap, Then he reached to his belt and unhooked a water skin. He pulled the cork and passed it to the Elf. "Here, drink. You must be thirsty."

"Thank you." Legolas drank deeply, ignoring the musty, flat taste of the water. It was cool and felt wonderful trickling down his dry throat.

There was an awkward silence as Legolas drank. He made to offer the skin back, but Aragorn waved it away. Finally the Elf spoke again. "I said before that I wouldn't say that I was sorry." He shook his head. "I lied to you then too. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I lost faith in you, Aragorn. You deserve better."

The man made to speak but Legolas held up his hand. "Hear me out. I'm also sorry that any of this ever happened to either of us. Part of this was my fault. Whatever I did to make you feel the way you do about me, to make you think that this was the only way to…" He paused and swallowed hard. "If I'd known, perhaps none of this would have happened and we would not be where we are today." He looked down at his feet as his vision blurred with unshed tears. "I am so very sorry."

Shifting uncomfortably, Aragorn sighed and spoke, his voice as gentle as his hands had been just a few moments before. "We cannot change what has gone before, Legolas. We can only work with what we have now." He stood up, stretched and walked to the tent flap. "I have thought long and hard on this, and I have come to the conclusion that what we have now is unworkable. You know how it galls me to admit defeat, but in this case I feel that it is best for all of us, especially Luthiél."

He held open the tent flap and waved someone in. A small, cloaked figure entered and curtseyed to a precise degree and then lowered her hood.

"Disa? What are you doing here?" Legolas found the words sticking to his tongue as he tried speak again.

"She is here to take care of Luthiél. She has accepted the position of royal Governess." Aragorn waved in the direction of the bed.

Disa nodded, walked over to the cushions and gently picked up the sleeping child. With another curtsey in Legolas' direction and a curt nod to Aragorn, she left the tent.

"Where is she going? Where is she taking Luthiél?" Legolas looked at the tent flap and made to run after the girl, but his legs would not move. He then blinked and spoke softly. "She betrayed me, didn't she?" He tried to be angry but found he didn't have the energy to do so. He was tired, so very tired.

Aragorn ignored the question. "I wasn't lying when I told you how sorry I was for everything that has happened." Aragorn walked forward and knelt at Legolas' feet. "Know that. Know also that this breaks my heart into a thousand pieces but I see no other way."

"What have you done?" Legolas held onto the side of the stool with his good hand as the tent began to grow dim around the corners.

"I'm setting you free. I'm giving up any claim I ever had to you in this form or any other." He paused. "I can't keep you captive any longer. It would only kill you and cause everyone around you pain." A shadow passed across the man's grey eyes. "I've had enough pain for a lifetime. Let it end now." He stood and walked towards the tent flap, looking as if he had aged decades in the time it took to say his piece.

"Luthiél?" Legolas asked in a small voice.

Aragorn turned back, his eyes glinting in the lamplight. "I can't let you take Luthiél." He paused and then said so quietly even Legolas was barely able to hear it, "She's all I'll have to remind me of you."

"No!" Legolas sprang to his feet and staggered forward a few steps before he fell to the floor. He cried out in pain as his arm was jolted, and then turned hopeless eyes up at the man who watched him impassively. He shook his head, this time pleading. "No. Please." The tent spun around him and went dark.

The king ran forward and caught the limp body before it hit the ground. "I'm sorry," he whispered to the golden head as he ever so gently lifted up the Elf and carried him to the bed in the corner. "You'll have eternity to forgive me," he murmured as he pulled a sleeping fur up to cover the slender frame. "I hope that's long enough."

He smoothed the blonde hair with worshipful hands and then shouted at the tent flap. "Come."

Synan walked in, his dark skin gleaming in the lamplight. He said nothing to the king about the fact that he didn't need permission to enter his own tent, choosing instead to bow. "Majesty?"

Aragorn stroked a pale cheek, and then stood up. "Has my man given you the gold?"

"Yes." The trader's smile gleamed white against his skin. "Your Majesty is most generous. What cargo would you like me to deliver and where?"

"I want you to take Legolas to the Havens."

"Legolas?" The smile dimmed as the trader looked down at the sleeping Elf in his bed. "The Havens?"

"I'll have a map brought." The king reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small flask. Handing it to the trader, he spoke again. "Dilute this with water and give it to her twice a day. Don't let her wake up until she's on the sea."

"Majesty?"

"I mean it. Keep her asleep until she's on a ship home. She'll only hurt herself trying to get back here otherwise." Aragorn sighed and stroked Legolas' hair again. "I don't want to be responsible for any more pain, and I know you don't either."

The trader paused for a long moment and then bowed. "As you command, Majesty. I will care for her as if she were one of my own daughters."

"I could ask for no better standard of care, Synan." The king leaned down and kissed Legolas on the forehead. "She'll be grateful for this eventually. It'll probably take longer than our great-grandchildren will live, but she'll be thankful we did this. I promise you that."

Synan smiled and slowly nodded. "Yes, Majesty."

Aragorn straightened and walked out of the tent, leaving Synan staring at his most precious cargo ever.

Disa waited by a small pony, Luthiél slumbering in her arms. The king looked at her and shook his head. "I still cannot believe that your father did not teach you to ride."

The girl rocked the baby absently and answered, "I cannot believe that you expected me to be able to ride at all. Proper women…" She sighed, then smiled grimly and started again. "But I am no longer a proper woman, nor do I ever have to be one again. I will learn to ride, my lord. I will learn."

"I believe you will." Aragorn mounted his horse and held his arms out. "Pass her up to me. I'll carry her back. You'll need both hands to hold onto the pony."

Handing the baby up, Disa looked at the tent. "Is it... done?"

Aragorn wrapped the sleeping child in his cloak and looked back. "It is done. Don't speak of it again."

Disa scrambled up and clung to the saddle horn as the king slowly rode away from the trader's camp, her pony following behind. She looked back at the white tent glowing from the lamps within, a forlorn look on her face.

Aragorn never looked back at all.


End file.
